Harry Potter and The Squirrel, The Moose and the Unicorn
by Lilia Le Fay
Summary: England. 1994. A Chevrolet Impala '67 pulls up outside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Meet Sam. A seventh year Gryffindor. Meet Dean. The worst DADA assistant in Hogwarts History. Meet Cas. The weirdest Care of Magical Creatures teacher in Hogwarts History. Meet Harry. He's gotta survive The Triwizard Cup alongside these lunatics. (No Pairings) Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue: Dead in the Dining Room

**Prologue: Dead in the Dining Room**

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 **A/N: Hi there! Thanks for clicking on my book, I hope you enjoy it :) This first chapter is designed to be short and slightly mysterious, so it probably won't make sense until a few chapters time. This is my first Fanfiction, it'd be great to see what you think in a review, I don't have many, and, being honest, they're the only thing that keeps me going! The pace is slow at first, but I'm just warming up, soon Team Free Will will be causing chaos at hogwarts!**

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All is silent in Little Hangleton as two figures creep across dew-soaked grass; one clutching a faltering torch, the other holding a wand aloft, a pale, blue-white orb alight at the end. An owl hoots in the distance, the wind whispers in the trees, and a hissed obscenity is heard as one of the shadows stumbles over a branch felled by a long-forgotten storm. In the moonlight, on the winding street across from the field, a car gleams faintly in the darkness. Experts might be able to pinpoint it as a Chevrolet '67 Impala in mint condition, recently waxed with a new carburetor. To the untrained eye, however, it's simply a frickin' cool car.

The intruders go unnoticed as they make their way through the night, heading for a tumbledown cottage in the grounds of the English mansion. No doubt they saw the lights; the small building contrasting so starkly with the distant, looming shadow of Riddle House. But they're not going to find a cosy little home with a fire crackling in the grate and a wolf dressed as harmless old granny ready to eat you alive. The Muggle who lived there may be silent now, but Frank's scream still hangs in the air. And they can feel it.

' _Ugh, it's that smell.'_

' _What smell?'_

' _That smell of old people...old people and their old people clothes and old people shoes and all that other old people crap.'_

' _Oh come on, it's only mothballs.'_

' _You saying you like it?'_

' _No, I'm saying that you're overreacting.'_

' _Well if you had any sense of smell you'd be 'overreacting' to this as well.'_

' _Who said I don't have a sense of smell?'_

' _No one, you just don't. Now come on.'_

They enter the cottage cautiously, creeping across the floors. One treads slowly upstairs - he's tall, with long dark hair, and holds a wand in one hand and a knife in the other. The other man moves swiftly through the downstairs level, scanning the rooms with glinting green eyes, jaw set in what appears to be constant expression of stubbornness. His hands grip a machete and a torch, and he looks as if he's in a state of extreme discomfort, mostly indicated by the fact that two fingers on the torch-holding hand are busy pinching his long nose.

'Well, here's no one in here.' He calls, turning off the torch and slipping his knife away. There's a thumping behind him, and his companion appears. 'Looks like the old guy went out.' He continues, addressing it to the man at his dude. He scans the room before reaching to turn off the screaming kettle on the hob, at the same time as the tall one's eyes flicker as they come to rest on the back door that hangs slightly open in the breeze.

'Yeah,' He answers, and nods to the door. 'And he left the back door unlocked.'

The other one looks up, then back to the stove, raising his eyebrows. 'And he left the kettle on,' He says, 'What kind of Brit leaves the kettle on?' His voice became touched with sarcasm. 'Man, I knew this was trouble.'

"Come on." The other calls, treading forward slowly. He whispers under his breath as he opens the door and enters the night, a pale orb brightening at the end of his wand once more. 'Lumos,' He hushes softly, the shifting sound carried away on the wind as they make their way up the winding track towards the ominous silhouette of Riddle House. His companion follows him with a heavier read, his footsteps sounding loud on the damp earth. Somewhere in the darkness of Riddle House, a shadow shifts.

"Well I sure think _Ghostfacers_ missed out on this one." The burly one remarks as they draw closer to the mansion, his eyes scanning the foreboding outline ahead. 'So we're looking for what's-his-face in a creepy ass mansion? Are you sure Bobby didn't give us the wrong lead and has us after the ghost of the servant died whilst acting as footstool for Mr and Mrs I-have-more-money-than-everybody-else?'

The tall one sighs, walking towards the front door. His companion follows, still inspecting the outline of the house. 'First off, we're not looking for You-Know-Who, we don't have a death wish. We're scanning the area because MACUSA traced his parentage back to the Riddles, the couple who lived in the house before. Bobby thought there might be some connection to the people; thought the old groundskeeper might know something.'

'The groundskeeper whose house we just broke into? Well he's sure gonna wanna tell us cosy tales about these 'Riddle' people cuddled up by the fire now.'

'Well if we do manage to find him, I doubt the tales will be 'cosy', anyway.'

'Why?'

'The couple who lived here? They were found dead in the dining room in the '40s.'

'Dead in the Dining Room? Is that the new reality show where they throw a bunch of ghosts in the room and make them eat dinner together?'

'Get this - the cops couldn't find a cause of death. Their hearts just stopped. According to the report, it was like they were ' _scared to death'_.'

'Wait - so you're saying these people had _ghost sickness_?'

'What? No, of course not - do you know anything about magic?'

'What do you think?'

They've reached the front door, and the conversation stops. The silence is eerie as the shorter one moves to slam against the front door, the other whispering an incantation to make his wand light brighter. The words 'Lumos Maxima' are lost in the sound of the door flying open, but then quiet falls once more. The air is still, the wind no existent within the walls of the house. Neither of the pair say anything as they move to enter. Creaking footsteps - their own - break the atmosphere, but there's still an uneasy heaviness hanging in the air.

'Okay, there is no way I would let the Ghostfacers get at this place. There's something downright creepy about it.' The burly one clicks his torch on and kicks open one of the doors that line the impressive entrance hall, peering into an ancient room.

His partner follows, eyes resting upon the long table draped in mouldy sheets, the chairs lined up against the window. 'This is the dining room,' He whispers, his gaze flickering as he takes in the room. He lifts up his wand, illuminating the dark room. 'This is where they died." He steps forward, his footstep soft on the rotting carpet. 'Wonder how long it's been like this for.'

Wait -.' His partner holds out a hand and looks at him, eyes uneasy. 'Did you hear that?'

Distantly, something creaks. And again. And again. The unmistakable sound of someone creeping across the floorboards above.

The pair exchange glances, and brace themselves. Moving out of the dining room, they find the stairs, the shorter one leading the way, the other watching his rear. They extinguish their lights, and move silently. The thing that can now be heard is the slow but sure sound of the footsteps.

Their own movement is muffled by the heavy coating of dust on the stairs as they climb to the second floor. The tall one nudges his partner, and points downwards. Heavy in the dust, lie a dozen footprints, one on each stairs. Leading upwards.

When the reach the landing, the noises stop. They stop. There's a grunt, and then everything is silent.

At the end of the landing hallway, a door lies open, and the dark outline of something lying on the floor at the entrance can be seen. The men exchange glances. They know that familiar shape; the slump, the angle, the single arm outstretched across the floor. It's a body. And, judging by still it lies, it's quite possibly a dead one.

The tall one hurries forward, still careful, but louder in movement, reaching the body and taking the arm in one hand, checking for a pulse. He looks to his companion, who's busy checking the rooms along the landing, and shakes his head.

'It's the muggle.' He says quietly, the other man arriving next to him at the body, 'The guy's dead. Doesn't look like he died that long ago.'

'You think whoever was here before killed him?' The burly one runs his torch over the room, and takes in the glowing embers in the grate, the sheets thrown off the furniture, the armchair moved to face the door.

The tall one looks up, and registers what the other has realised. 'Maybe… I dunno. He could have just had a heart attack or something.'

'Yeah, he could have had a heart attack. And maybe he had one because he ran into something that was already in here.'

'Well they could have just been junkies breaking in - I mean, I wanna find something here just as much as you do, but -"

'Look,' the other guy interrupts him, shining his torch into the corner of the room and stepping over the dead body to walk across the room. He picks a piece of material up off a chair, and holds it up for inspection. 'It's some kind of cloak, and I highly doubt a junky would wear one. Only people like your weird friends wear crap like this.'

'Hang on,' His partner crosses the room, eyes alight as something catches his eye. 'Pass that here a second.'

The one clutching the cloak shrugs, raising his eyebrows, and hands it to his companion. There's a moment of silence as the other inspects it, holding his wand light over the item, then he sheds a gasp of surprise. 'Oh my god - look - on the clasp.'

The burly one peers at the silver cloak fastening, and creases his brow. 'Okay, so there's skull with a… snake? coming out of it carved into the metal. So what?' A slight smile twitches on his face and he holds the fastening closer. 'Heh. Actually quite cool if you ask me.'

The other man reaches forward and slaps his hands, taking the cloak from. 'Don't you know what this means? That symbol is the sign of You-Know-Who - You-Know-Who and his followers.'

'Wait - so you mean.' Suddenly, the footsteps from before were remembered, and the two men exchanged glances of horror.

'Right,' The burly one started forward, stride determined, knife in hat. 'I'm gonna gank this son of a bitch once and for all.'

'Stop it, you idiot You're gonna get us killed!' His partner grabbed the other one's arm, twisting him round. 'Do you know anything about this mission? Or who we're up against For all we know, there could be five frickin' Death Eaters prowling around downstairs!'

All the other one did was snigger. 'Death Eaters..' He chuckled under his breath. ' _Death Eaters_? They must be part of _Dead in the Dining Room_ crew as well.'

'Dean, we have to get out of here. _Now_.'

'Fine, fine. But we're gonna have to face these asshats someday. Snap us out of here, Sammy.'

A sharp crack rang through the house. A snake slithered over the cold body of Frank Bryce. The room was empty, the men gone. But they had not been alone.

From behind the sheet-covered chairs in the corner, a man emerges in shadows. He surveys the room with cold-blooded hatred, and kicks the dead body in the doorway. He turns back. Flicks his tongue over his thin lips. And then, he too, is gone

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 **Will be updating every week! Just hit 460 views! You know what, you're awesome.**


	2. Chapter One: Brotherly Love

**Chapter One: Brotherly Love**

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 **PLEASE READ:**

 **A/N**

 **This is an explanation chapter, so you know why Sam Winchester joined M.I.S.H.A, which is a department run by Bobby within MACUSA, it's like it is in Supernatural, just instead of him going to Stanford, he joins The Magical Congress of the United States of America. (for those of you who haven't watched Fantastic Beasts and where to find them - set in the Harry Potter universe- it's from that.) Being honest, the first part of this story is slow, seeing as I had to spend quite a while creating an explanation as to why Sam left. If you find explanations boring and just wanna get to the fun bits, then try skipping to Chapter 3. Please bear with me, this story will become more short and amusing (hopefuly :P) later on.**

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Sam Winchester sat hunched over himself in the waiting room of the department of M.I.S.H.A., twiddling his thumbs nervously as he stared into space. His whole body was tense, his eyes flickering and twitching as he focused on the floor, inspecting it with what looked like intense concentration. In reality, he was miles away. He hadn't seen his brother in six months - Dean only boosted when he needed help on the occasional case. He'd drag Sam away for a few days, torture him with incessant pranks, avoid the subject of magic and pretend like Sam wasn't going to return to MACUSA the next day. Sam had chosen a life in the wizarding world. Dean hadn't.

The room Sam was sat in was dark; painted a navy blue colour, with one small window in the furthest wall and two battered brown leather couches lying either side. It connected to Bobby Singer's office, the department at MACUSA reserved for a special organisation: the Ministry for Investigation of Supernatural and Horrific Activity. That room was now Sam's home, whilst he didn't have a place to live, and essentially Bobby's prison, due to the hours he worked.

Sam paused as the sound of bubbling voices drifted in from the corridor, and listened as they became louder.

'What the - what are you trying to do to me, Lady? I need to get through here'

'It's just a simple scanning spell, Mr Winchester, it won't take long.'

'Oh no, okay, look here - you are not coming near me with that thing, okay? I am not going to spelled on by some wand-waving freak, you got that?'

'But sir-'

Sam was there, jumping up onto his feet and hauling open the door before Dean could reply or the girl finish. There was a pause as the brothers looked at each other. Dean grinned childishly from where he stood.

"Hey Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to the MACUSA assistant, a soft look coming to his face. she was looking from one imposing male to the next, mostly focused on the one who had given the impression he was about to kill her a minute before. 'Ah - Miss - er - Goldstein, right? Tamzin?" Sam flashed a warm smile at the girl, who nodded. 'You can let this guy through..'

'But-'

'I'm with Mr. Singer.' Sam cut her off, then lifted his M.I.S.H.A. I.D. 'Sam Winchester. Bobby's said he can go through without being scanned. He's trustworthy.'

The assistant looked from Dean, who was busy smirking obnoxiously at her, to Sam, who was giving her his best puppy-eyes. SHe gave in. 'Fine.' She moved to let Dean pass.

Dean, grinning triumphantly, moved past her and followed Sam into the office, Sam pausing only to yell after the girl. 'Thanks, Tam!' By the time he had turned round, Dean was already fiddling with the things on the window sill, turning a golden snitch between his fingers. He looked up as Sam turned back round.

'So.' He said. 'I get out of scanning? What, does that mean I'm a special guest or something?'

'No, Dean, it means you're a pain in the ass.' Sam replied, walking forward.

Dean raised his eyebrows. 'Woahh, the brotherly love's really pumping through this room today.' He looked at Sam. 'So, why'd you let me through? I could have been dangerous. Would have thought you cared more about security than this.'

'Yeah, like a scanning spell is gonna pick up anything like what we know.' Sam answered. He turned round to reach for something on one of the shelves. 'We can't trust the spell, though Bobby's working on it. For now we have to do our own security.'

"Oh?" Dean raised us eyebrows in curiosity. "And what's tha-" Cut off in mid-sentence, Dean was hit full in the face by a spray of holy water. There was a pause, then he opened his eyes to see Sam corking the bottle once more, slight smugness on his face. Dean scowled. 'Well thanks for the heads up, sunshine.' He said, bringing his hands up to wipe his face. Sam was too quick, however; grabbing one of them and nicking Dean's thumb neatly with the silver blade.

Dude!' Dean pulled away with indignation. 'Come on! Could you not tell me before you're gonna go all Patrick Bateman on my ass?'

Sam said nothing, wiping the silver blade and turnino away to place it on a shelf. 'Done.' He looked up at his brother again, rebellion in his expression. 'Also next time you come Dean, you you please restrain yourself from attempting to verbally slaughter Tamzin. I don't want you scaring her out of here, she's one of the good ones.'

Dean pulled a face, wiping his sleeve across his forehead to dry the water still dripping from it. 'She was alright… just a bit… meh. You need some hot action, Sammy, not office sex.'

'Dean, I did not ask you to come here to talk about my love life-'

'Your _sex_ life. By the way, are you still a Virgin?'

'Dean.'

'I mean, I'm just wondering - you're not like me.' He gave a self important chuckle and raised his eyebrows. 'I'm one of a kind, but you're seventeen now, so how about we got hit a bar, find you a hot chick-'

'Dean, I need you to be serious here. We actually have some things we need to discuss. Why do you think I asked you to come in the first place, anyway? To talk about my _sex_ life?'

Dean grinned. 'There you go.'

Sam sighed, brushing his hair back from his face. "Why, Dean." There was a note of warning in his voice.

Dean's expression changed; becoming more serious, and he shrugged before speaking. 'Well, I dunno.' He said. 'I suppose I thought you wanted to show me your life in freak city land - or maybe, you know, wanna forget all of this and go hunting?'

Sam's face dawned with realisation. He stared at Dean, whose hard look didn't waver, then turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets. 'Right.' He laughed bitterly, bowing his head. 'So that's why you came here? Not because you actually care about anything I do or would even consider helping us out?'

Dean's face had lost it's humour now and he looked a Sam coldly. 'And why the hell, would I care, about anything in this frickin' world? They're all elites! They've got magic, they've got power, and they can do whatever the crap they want with it because those humans out there don't know a thing about it! What do you do again? Oh, that's right - you _Obliterate_ them. You literally, _obliterate -_ their memories.' He chuckled mockingly under his breath, then looked up at Sam.'So yeah, why in the hell would I wanna help out these people? Give me one good reason.'

Sam clenched his jaw, locking eyes with Dean as he faced him off.'Because you're one of them, Dean.' He answered. 'Because - however much you claim to hate this world - you're still a wizard. You're still one of us.'

'I'm about as much of a wizard as Dr. Sexy M.D., Sammy.' Dean smirked, but his eyes were still bright with anger. 'And I can tell you now- I'm not one of you.'

'Why can't you just accept it, Dean.' Sam answered. 'Why can't you accept that this is my life now? I'm not a freak, I'm not a weirdo, I'm being who I want to be. I'm doing what I want to do.'

'Of course you're a freak. 'I'm a freak as well. We're both freaks. But here's the difference between you and me - you're a freak who ran away with no warning, who cut off his family and who left us thinking you were dead for a month! That's the kind of _person_ you are!'

'Dean-'

''Do you have any idea what that was like, Sam? Do you? Dad and I were hunting a _demon_. We were gonna leave you in the motel to be safe but ohhh no, fourteen-year-old Sammy just had to come out with us and then do a frickin' disappearing act when we lost the thing!' He stared hard at Sam, shouting now.

Sam's face was pinched as he remembered that day, remembered hearing their shouts, their calls. They had echoed around his head as he had been whisked away by the Portkey. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to look back at it and question what he had done.

'We thought you were dead, Sam!' Dean continued. 'We thought it had killed you! Dad spent days trying to track you down! And then, here's the kicker, Sammy - we get a call from Bobby, saying you've gone to train with him as a frickin' wizard. Saying you won't speak to us, saying you never wanna see us again! So yeah, I hate the fact that you live in this world, that you _claim_ to be one of them!'

Sam said nothing, silent as Dean's shouts echoed round the still room. Furious, Dean continued. 'See this is the thing about you, Sammy - you never stop to think how what you do will affect other people!'

There was a pause, Dean watching and waiting for Sam's reply. Guilt swelled in Sam's chest as a memory came to him, but when he spoke, his voice was hard.

"I'm sorry for what happened in the past, Dean, but this is my life now." He said. "And if you can't come to terms with that then-"

"You're _sorry_?" Dean cut across him, eyes blazing with anger. " _Sorry?_ What, is that it? You're sorry for having us believe you were dead, then turning your back on us for a year? For abandoning us? All Dad wanted was for us to be a family, Sam, and _you_ destroyed that!"

"It's not my fault Dad couldn't accept for what we were!" Sam shouted,. 'It's not my fault that he, he hated the fact that we were something he weren't; that we had powers that he didn't! I dunno, maybe we could have been a family if he didn't make us repress our magic, if he hadn't made us turn our backs on who we are!'

'We're not meant to be wizards, Sam; and we aren't wizards.' Dean replied. 'We're hunters; that's what we were brought up to be, and that's what we should be! It doesn't matter what we were born as'

'So I'm not a wizard am I, Dean?' Sam fired back, holding his his arms out from his sides. 'Even though I'm working for the Wizarding Government, even though I live in the wizarding world, even though I can frickin' well cast magic? Well lets see about that, shall we? _Vermillious!_ '

A shower of bright scarlet sparks shot from his wand, making Dean jump back in alarm and temporarily blinding them in a sea of red. Once they'd cleared, Dean looked at Sam, voice cold and vicious. 'I don't care if you can cast magic, Sammy.' He said. 'You're a hunter, and you always will be. Now you can pretend that everything's all rainbows and sunshine in this 'wizarding world' but I can tell you that it's not, okay? And sooner or later, you're gonna get hurt, and I'm not gonna be here to save you!'

'You think I need you to watch my back? I'm not a child, anymore Dean, I'm not Sammy the chubby little twelve year old who can't stand on his own feet without his heroic big brother to help him out!'

'Oh really? You think you can keep yourself protected? With no proper skills except being able to fire some red stuff from the end of a stick?'

'Yeah, actually, I think I can!'

Dean paused. 'Well then.' He said 'Let's see if you're right.'

Without hesitation, Dean lunged at Sam, slamming him against the wall and holding a knife to his throat. Sam struggled in an attempt to escape Dean's grasp, but was useless - Dean had him cornered. 'So,' he said, raising his eyebrows. 'You sure you don't need me to have your back now, Sammy?

Sam paused to twist a little. 'Positive.' His right hand free, he slashed his wand through the air. ' _Flipendo!_ '

In a flash, Dean was thrown violently backwards into the air, landing on the sofa on the other side of the room. There was a pause as he sat up, but Sam wasn't done yet. Fury blazing in his eyes, he shouted another incantation; 'Locomotor Mortis!'.

Dean's face dawned in angry confusion as his legs locked together and he began to writhe in both panic and perplexity - but not for long. Realising what had happened, Dean did the only thing he could and promptly threw himself off the sofa and at Sam, who had been pausing to simply glare at Dean angrily, thinking he had won. But no, the Gigantor was felled; Dean taking him down as he threw his arms around Sam's legs and brought him to the ground with a crash. Dean reached for Sam's spell casting hand, fumbling at it clumsily.

'No no no you are not taking my wan - argh - oof - gahhhh!' Sam's words were cut off as Dean reached his other hand, up to wrench the wand from Sam's hand. The two of the, began rolling across the floor, scrabbling at each other as if they were wild animals. Sam was trying to get his wand off Dean and Dean, meanwhile, was determined to keep his prize.

'Well, I was gonna talk business but it appears you girls are busy cat fighting.'

Bobby Singer had entered the room; The brothers looking up in horror as they saw him - Dean looked like he'd been caught watching porn by his grandfather, and Sam's expression was doubled by far. In silence, Bobby looked from on to the other, then snapped into gear. 'Oh come on, break it up, you brats!'

Bobby's barked order pulled Dean and Sam back into reality, the brothers rolling over before standing up. Dean brushed down his jacket, wand in hand. Sam raked back his hair, straightened his tie. Neither of them would look at Bobby, who was eyeing them with a mix of parental warning and patronisation. "God, five minutes in and you're already fighting. Go audition for Idjits Unite or something but don't do it in my office."

A silence ensued as Sam and Dean coughed, twitched and nodded hurriedly to acknowledge him before exchanging glances, nodding at one another. Okay, so perhaps it had a got a little out of hand. Just a little. Maybe the physical attack had been a bit much.

Bobby rolled his eyes. 'God, if you think I'm gonna make you say sorry to each other, you're looking for the Nanny you should have had when you were younger. I don't have time for this shit.' He began to turn his wheelchair round, and Dean stepped forward.

"So, uh, Bobby, how are you? Long time no see."

"How do you think I am?" Bobby retorted. "Look, I don't have time for this shit, we've got things to discuss. Come on, you idjits." He began to wheel himself into his office, he brother so following.

"Well I'm as fine as ever, Bobby." Answered Dean as he smirked and followed Bobby.

'God, you've got pretty good at the lying now, Dean.' Bobby answered sarcastically. 'Sam, get your ass in here now, I haven't got all frickin' day.'


	3. Chapter Two: The Rebel Son

**Chapter Two - The Rebel Son**

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 **A/N:**

 **So this is just a lil flashback to explain some backstory - it's not long, but I thought I'd explain how Sam came to work for Bobby. Plus there's a quick guest appearance!**

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 _ **Three Years Ago**_

 _'This is so cool.' Sam said excitedly to Dean. 'We're hunting a Demon - an actual Demon! Hey - can I exorcise it?'_

 _Dean rolled his eyes. 'You don't even know how to exorcise one yet, dumbass.' He turned around to look at Sam - they were walking down a dark corridor, following a maze of corridors in an abandoned mansion. 'Just stay behind and leave me and Dad to do it, okay?'_

' _But-' Sam began, but Dean had turned away grouchily, rolling his eyes and walking faster to catch up with John Winchester ahead of them. As soon as he had turned his head away, however, Sam's expression changed. Faking the excitement had been easy - Dean and their Dad still saw him as a little kid; overly eager and a general source of irritation. He watched the two of them ahead, Dean murmuring in a low voice to John, subconsciously mimicking his Father's stance, his walk. The loyal soldier. They wouldn't even notice if he disappeared - so much for keeping him safe. This time, however, it worked to his advantage._

 _Sam watched as Dean and their Dad turned a corner, moving carefully, watching each other's backs. They'd forgotten about him. Good._

 _As soon as they were out of sight, Sam began to move. He already knew the layout of the house - he'd done his research, looking at the floorplans displayed in the realtors; repeating Bobby's message over and over to himself until he knew it off by heart. "_ There's a portkey in the old gazebo, set up for our Portland M.I.S.H.A. division so they can travel to the capital," _Bobby's gravelly voice had crackled in the answer machine. "_ It'll take you straight to M.I.S.H.A. Headquarters in the Big Apple, where you can find me. Ask your Dad about travelling via Portkey, he should remember a thing or two - and make sure Dean doesn't touch it before knowing what it is; it's an old record player and he'll be attracted to it like a vampire to fresh blood."

 _Except he hadn't told his Dad, or Dean. As far as Bobby knew, Sam was taking up the offer he had made ages ago, of taking Sam on as an intern at M.I.S.H.A. and teaching him magic on the side. John Winchester had never found out about this offer, and Dean had dismissed it at once, but it had always stuck with Sam, lodged in the back of his mind, niggling at him in times of doubt. Why couldn't he be a wizard as well as a hunter? He wanted to learn about this other world; a place where he might just be able to fit in, to have a life where a permanent home and no risk of being killed by a raving Wendigo was on the gurantee. He was fascinated by magic - and he loved casting it. Dean and Him had never been given wands, but a couple of years back, Sam had found his Mom's old one, and he couldn't resist using it. He'd only got as far as 'Lumos' and 'Wingardium Leviosa', but he had felt wonderful whilst casting the spell - it felt natural, it felt right, it felt like a part of him had finally been released. The real him._

 _When he was younger, all he'd wanted to do was hunt. He wanted to be part of Dean and Dad's little gang, to be recognised by John Winchester as a great hunter-in-the-making, to impress them. He loved the research and the action, and he threw himself into it. It was like he was in a book, like he was some hero, Sam the Hunter who feared nothing and braved all._

 _Except he began to grow out of it. Began to realise what the world was really like, and that he was not living inside the pages of a book. He accepted that his father would never acknowledge his ideas, or listen to his opinions - to his Dad, Sam would always be little Sammy, the rebel soldier, the one who needed to be crushed to be controlled. He realised he'd never be like Dean, no matter how hard he tried to imitate his older brother._

 _And then, he had found the wand - and an escape route. The Wizarding World was not mentioned at the Winchester's dinner table - John Winchester was not a wizard, and even if he had married a witch and his sons were magical like their Mother, they were going to be hunters. Sam and Dean might have been wizards, but they weren't given any training. They were told they were wizards, that there was another world of magic out there, and that they were never allowed to mention it again. End of story._

 _PFinally, last month, Sam had summoned up his courage and brought up the subject of magic one nighy. Instantly the mood had changed. At first, they scorned him, and when John Winchester had realised his Son was actually entirely serious about wanting to learn magic, he had tried to shut him down. But Sam had rebelled and a blazing argument had erupted, ending with Sam leaving the room with an appropriate slam of the doo. Dean had tried to talk to him after he'd stormed off, trying to justify their Dad's reasons. It had not worked._

 _Lying awake that night, Sam had realised what he would have to do to get out of there. So he had hatched his plan. Rung Bobby, told him his Dad was sending him to work with him. He told him they had had a fight and his Dad wanted him out of the way for a bit because he was cramping his and Dean's ability to hunt. Bobby had believed him._

"Just make sure you get here in one piece, you idjit _." His last words on that voicemail had been. After he'd memorised it, Sam had made sure to delete it. He had to disappear suddenly, and the reveal to Bobby what the true story was. It was going to be hard, but it wasn't impossible. Bobby hardly approved of John Winchester's parenting techniques._

 _Sam waited until the footsteps faded away entirely. He duo round - and then stopped. Could he do it? Could he really run from them? Was it worth all of this?_

" _Sam?"_

 _Dean._

 _He stopped stock still, a shot of adrenaline rushing through him, as the next call echoed down the corridor. He could do this, he could leave. He could._

" _Sam? Sammy, where are you?"_

 _Sam recognised the distant sound of footsteps halting and murmuring. Crap. Crap. Holy mother of crap._

 _Go find him. And hurry.' He heard his Dad murmur to Dean, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps._

 _Sam ran. Back down the corridor, through the ancient conservatory, past the rotting kitchen, and then out of the back door and into the overgrown garden. The path, the path, where was the path? The garden was a rotted jungle of dead plants and trees, and for a minute, Sam couldn't focus. He had been brought up to think on his feet, but right now, his mind wouldn't work. It was if he were paralysed; blind - except he could still see. He could see the gazebo in the distance, connected to the lonely streets of town. And now, he could see the path too._

' _Sammy? SAMMY? SAM?"_

 _Dean's yells were louder as Sam ran, echoing through his head as he sped towards the gazebo, but gradually, they faded - Dean hadn't managed to follow him - they didn't know where he'd gone. That way he could getter away cleanly; he wouldn't have to face up to the fact that he was leaving them without saying anything, disappearing out of the blue._

 _He'd reached the gazebo, picking through the mast of the undergrowth and eyeing the structure before him. It was made of white marble, once a shelter in the old garden, but now a street-side building hidden by a cloaking spell from Muggles - twenty metres away, a busy road from the city passed by._

 _Sam moved slowly to climb up the steps, and the full view of the gazebo was presented to him. On the floor, in the centre of the place, lay a rusted garden spade that made Sam stop in his tracks. The portkey. This was it._

 _The sound of footsteps sent a wave of adrenaline through his chest, and for a moment, he thought it was over, that Dean had caught up with him. Instead, he looked up to see a man dressed in long, bright turquoise robes hurrying up the gazebo steps, stumbling slightly. A name badge hung above his shirt pocket reading 'Garth Fitzgeralf IV, M.I.S.H.A. field agent'. The man glanced up and realised Sam was there, stopping in his tracks._

" _Are you, uh, travelling today?' The man's eyes were unsure. 'I don't recognise you at all…"_

" _Well uh, this port - portkey does go to M.I.S.H.A. HQ in New York, right?" Sam asked, hesitating slightly._

" _Yup, that's right." The man answered"Why, you meeting someone there?" Garth paused as another yell came from the house. Dean was still calling Sam's name. "What was that?'_

" _I dunno. Probably just a bird or something." Sam said hastily. "Uh, yeah. My Uncle - his name's Bobby Singer?"_

" _Heyyy, I should have known! Another magical hunter, hey? Come on, we'd better get you there!" The man knelt down and reached out for the Portkey, then looked up at Sam, who was still standing there, expectantly. "Well, are you coming or what?"_

" _Yes." Sam uttered the words before he had time to even think about them, and knelt on the floor. "Yes, I'm ready."_

 _Sam's hand touched the Portkey, and he was gone._


	4. Chapter Three: Gamechanger

**Chapter Three: Gamechanger**

* * *

 _ **Late disclaimer:**_ What a surprise, I cannot claim ownership for any of the characters from either Supernatural nor Harry Potter. Shame.

* * *

Dean fell into a chair and put his feet up onto the desk in front of him. The three of them were gathered in Bobby's office now; a room with pale grey walls covered in shelves laden with a myriad of files and folders, generally labeled ' _research_ '. Dean snorted. No wonder Sam coutline be dragged away from here it here - this was his idea of a wet dream. Dean slid his eyes to the right, inspecting his brother out of the corner of his eye. Sam was sat on a chair next to him, hazel eyes fixed on the wall behind Bobby. Typical, he was pretending not to be aware of what was up whilst really listening in on the whole damn thing. Well, Dean was going to have to fix that.

He leaned in towards Sam, voice low as he spoke. ' _Bitch_.'

Sam turned to look at Dean. The faintest of smiles touched his lips. ' _Jerk_.' He murmured in reply.

Bobby finished manoeuvring his wheelchair into the space behind the desk, leant forward, and, with a single thrust of half-hearted movement, pushed Dean's feet off the surface. Dean made an expression of indignance, then turned to his former mentor.

'So, Bobby. You gonna tell me why I'm here? Other than the fact that you just wanna appreciate at this beautiful face, that is.'

Bobby stated unblinking at Dean from under heavy Browns, apparently unaffected by Dean's 'charms'. 'Okay then, let's cut to the chase. MACUSA have a mission for you two, and you need briefing.'

'Woah woah woah, hang on a minute - what?' Confusion riddled Dean's face as he looked from Sam in Bobby in disbelief. 'MACUSA have a _mission_ for _me_? Since when am I the wizarding government's lap dog? There's no way I'm doing anything for that bunch of jackasses, so you can forget it.'

'You ain't got no choice, Dean.' Bobby answered. 'You're going on this mission, whether you like it or not, and I've gotta prepare you, so the faster we move on, the better.'

'I 'ain't got a choice'?' Dean looked at Bobby in disbeloef. 'What the hell does that mean? Of course I got a choice, they haven't got anything on me; they can't make me doing anything. I mean for god's sake, I ain't even part of this frickin' world!'

'That's the point.' Sam chipped in, sighing. 'They do have something on you, Dean.'

'Oh yeah, like what?'

'You refused to go with the authorities when you were eleven. By rights, you should have studied at Ilvermony and been registered with MACUSA. At least the latter, but now, they can only keep track of you through us, and they silently agree to that arrangement as long as you're at their beck and call.'

'But I didn't agree to that.' Dean protested, eyes flashing angrily, looking from Sam to Bobby. 'There was no deal, there was no talk, I didn't know anything about this.'

'They like to make things unspoken at MACUSA.' Answered Bobby, with a look that perfectly summed up just what he thought of the American Wizarding Congress. 'Either way, there's no getting out of it. If you go against them, they'll force you into an education scheme and to be registered and tracked by the government as a Supernatural Hunter. It's either lose your freedom for eight months or lose it for the rest of your life. Your choice.'

'Jeez, can we just hang on a second here?' Dean put his hand up, and sat forward in his chair. 'You're saying that MACUSA want to literally blackmail me into a mission?'

'Basically, yeah.' Replied Bobby bluntly. 'If you wanna put it like that. Whining about it ain't gonna help.'

Dean gritted his teeth. 'And this mission will involve using magic? Pretending to be some wand-waving jackass?' He questioned, looking to Bobby.

'Yeah.' Bobby replied, eyes resting on Dean's face. He knew Dean all too well, and B knew what this meant to him. Betraying his father, forsaking his own beliefs - the kid was proud, loyal and stubborn, just like his Father. Bobby had known the Winchester kids since they were toddlers, an old friend of their Dad's, although John Winchester had never dis cussing Bobby's ties in the magical world with him, only even seen him as an ordinary but useful hunter. But Bobby cared about the kids in his non nonsense way; pain in the asses they were - and they trusted him. Even Dean.

'So I have to pretend to be one of them?' Dean swore loudly. "Live in this world for eight frickin' months? No way, no way, I can't do it-'

'Why is this such a big thing to you ?' Sam burst out, his voice as sharp as a razor. 'Why are you so against having to cast magic, seeing what it's like to be who you're meant to be?'

Dean turned on him, equally ready to start another fight. 'Because it's not who we're meant to be, dad raised us to be hunters, not frickin' wizards, and if you can't accept that, Sammy, then-'

'SHUT THE HELL UP, BOTH OF YOU!' Bobby raised his voice from a growl to a roar and the Winchester brothers fell silent as they looked at the floor, Bobby himself angrier than the two of them combined, as if he were scolding naughty children. 'Now you two brats had better stop wasting time picking at each other or you're both gonna end up knee deep in crap. You're gonna need each other for this mission; you gotta be a team. Yeah, it's frickin' unacceptable that MACUSA are forcing you to do this, Dean, but I was gonna ask you myself anyway. This is not just for MACUSA, this is for M.I.S.H.A., we wouldn't want any old idjit for this mission.'

There was a pause, then Dean looked up at Bobby. 'So what is this mission, then? How come it's so important?'

Bobby sighed. 'Seeing as you will have spent the last four years road tripping in your Dad's old car moulded to the front seat, you won't have heard the news, but there are rumours in Wizarding America that have started to bleed through from Europe. They're saying the Potters' son has been found, and that he's at Hogwarts. And, since he's been there, guess what? There's been an increase in hush-hush from the British Ministry of Magic. The school was nearly closed in 1992 for unsaid reasons of threat; in 1991 there was a full security lockdown on it; and last year a mass-murderer was reported to have been sighted there and there was a werewolf - a wizarding one, thank god - on the staff register.'

'Woah woah, slow down a minute, Bobby.' Dean cut in as Bobby paused to take a breath, his face screwed up in irritated confusion. 'Do I look like Clark Kent to you? I don't have a photographic memory and I have no frickin' clue who these people are in the first place.'

Sam looked at him in disbelief. 'You don't know who Harry Potter is?'

'What - don't tell me - you're a fangirl too?' Dean turned to Sam in mock amazement, clasping his hands over his mouth.

'You seriously don't know what we're talking about here?'

'Boo hoo, I don't know who some spotty little tween weirdo is. God dammit, will you just get to the frickin' point here?'

'Harry Potter is the only person in wizarding history to have survived being attacked with the killing curse.' Bobby took over from Sam, who was just irritating Dean further. 'And the bad guy who blasted that spell at him was a sadistic dick known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort-'

'Bobby, you can't say his name!' Sam stated at him in shock.

'I'm not a terrified Brit, Sam. Not like he's just gonna appear out of thin air and murder me.'

'Look, I may have have been living under a rock for the past twenty-one years as far as your weirdo-world is concerned,' Dean began, once Bobby had finished. 'But I do know who this Lord Smorgasbord or whatever is.'

'Uh, yeah, and you can even pronounce his name.' Sam interjected. 'What the hell is a _Smorgasbord_?'

'Jesus, Sammy.' Dean facepalmed in mock shame. 'It's a range of open sandwiches and delicacies served as hors d'oeuvres or a buffet. Do they teach you anything useful here?' Sam rol led his eyes, and Dean returned to the previous topic. 'As I was saying, I may be ignorant with all this but I'm pretty sure that guy died like ten years ago or something.'

'Yeah, he did.' Answered Bobby bluntly. 'And that's the whole point of this mission, dumbass, if you two would shut up long enough for me to explain.' Silence fell as Bobby glared from one Winchester to the other, then continued.

'Yeah, Voldemort died thirteen years ago. He'd been at large over in Britain for over a decade - terrible time for wizards and witches over there. Him and his followers killed hundreds and nearly overthrew the government - looked like he was going to until news of a prophecy slipped out; about a kid who would one day be the one to kill the bastard. That kid, apparently, was Harry Potter, and on Halloween, 1981, Voldemort murdered Potter's parents and went to kill the kid. But, the spell rebounded and destroyed Voldemort himself, and since then, well, everyone's presumed he's dead.'

'And why do I get the feeling that you think there's more to this than that?' Dean questioned, raising his eyebrows.

'Get this, okay?' Sam had spoken, Dean switching to look at him. His face was earnest as he explained the whole thing. 'Throughout the time when he was leading his rebellion, a few reports trickled in that went unnoticed - reports detailing of how witches and wizards had fired killing curses at him and nothing had happened. And you can't help but think that, surely a tyrant with the a plan to conquer the wizarding world would have protected himself against being killed, magically or otherwise. So we're saying-'

'That this dude never actually died?' Dean cut in. 'But didn't they find his body?'

'Yeah, they found it alright.' Bobby answered gruffly. 'But you forget that most witches and wizards are separate - protected by their magic - from our world. They don't know about how it all works. And more importantly, they don't know about _souls_.'

Dean's face dawned in realisation. 'So his soul could have survived?' He looked at Bobby. 'How does that work? With wizards, I mean.'

'We don't know.' Sam answered. 'But it's definitely possible. There are ancient, forbidden spells of the Dark Arts that involve meddling with souls, and You-Know-Who could have easily used one of them.'

'Okay, let me get this straight.' Dean leant forward on the desk, stating his points with his hands on the polished pine wood. 'You think this evil wizarding dictator's soul has appeared again after Harry Blotter or whatever his name is went to school and is looking for a body?'

'To be honest, we don't know what the hell he's looking for.' Answered Bobby. 'But if he's back for a second time, it means a shitstorm of crap is coming to the wizarding world.'

'Yeah, but, by the sound of it, only for the Brits.' Said Dean, raising his eyebrows. 'Since when did MACUSA care about them? If the dude's not gonna come over here then they're fine; safe and sound.'

'MACUSA cares because last time, Voldemort had started spreading his followers to the states just before he died.' Said Bobby. 'He wanted to take over the whole of the world, Dean - if he's back, he ain't gonna settle for just England. And, if you'd just let me frickin' explain, I could tell you the rest of what you need to know.'

'There's more?' Dean questioned, face creased in confusion.

'Of course, you dumbass; you think M.I.S.H.A.'d be investigating this if it was just wizarding shit? We're the Ministry of Investigation of Supernatural and Horrific Activity, and we have contacts in Britain. Rumour has it demons are starting to line up behind a new master; switching sides and playing in the wizarding world. And there's been angelic activity over there as well. There was an angel, Samandriel; asked him some questions. He couldn't tell us who they are, but it looks like two archangels have been vacationing over there recently - one of them somewhere in Scotland.' Bobby paused and looked hard at Dean. ' _Hogwarts_ is in Scotland. _Harry Potter_ is also in Scotland.'

'So you wanna send me and Sam over to Britain to find out whether any heavenly or hellish bastards are involved in this and give the all-clear that Smorgasbord is nowhere to be seen, or tell you if he is?' Dean asked. 'That's it, right? Nothing more?'

'You saying you'll do it?' Bobby's voice held a hint of suspicion and surprise, and Sam looked equally confused. They had expected Dean to be a lot harder to persuade than this.

'Well yeah, don't have a choice, do I?' Dean shrugged grouchily. 'Might a well cut to the chase and get it over with, like Bobby says. Sounds pretty simple.'

'Uh… yeah. Right.' Said Sam, meeting Bobby's gaze. They hadn't explained the full extent of the mission yet. Maybe Dean'd feel different once he'd heard what he was going to have to do to go undercover.

'I just have two conditions.' Dean went on. Looking from Bobby to Sam, gaze determined, jaw set stubbornly. 'One - no flying.'

Sam snorted in amusement. 'This is the wizarding world, Dean, there are other ways to get you across the Atlantic Ocean than No-Maj transport.'

'Okay, good to know. Sounds about the only positive thing in your weirdo society.' Dean answered. 'Two - we get to bring along a third party. I can't just do this with Sam; we need an extra something on our team.'

'Okay, but, who?' Sam questioned.

Bobby looked to Dean as well, who creased his face in disbelief at their cluelessness and held out his hands out, looking at the two of the, ludicrously. 'Oh come on,' he said. 'Brown hair, blue eyes, about yeigh high, looks like he's got a stick shoved permanently up his ass? Who else could I be talking about?'


	5. Chapter Four: Interrogating the Cat

**Chapter Four: Interrogating the Cat**

* * *

 **26th August**

 **No. 4 Privet Drive**

 **Little Whinging**

 **Surrey**

 **England**

 ** _Fourteen hundred hours_**

Dean Winchester stepped out from behind the hedge the slowly, examining the view of the house closely, his green eyes flickering as he did so. It was a sunny day in England- a rare one, it seemed, seeing as it had rained for the past week. God, he was sick of British weather and British people and British accents… hey, the food wasn't too bad though - they made good pie, at least.

Carefully, he took a step forward to get a better look at No. 4 Privet Drive - Harry Potter's residence. 'Huh.' Dean murmured. It just looked like an ordinary human house - perfectly trimmed lawn with a random statue thing in the centre; beige bricks and a roof slated in dark brown tiles; perfectly polished windows with net curtains drawn neatly behind them. In fact, it was the most normal house Dean had ever seen - everything about it was so, so mundane. Why the hell was a famed teenage wizard living here?

Still, it made it easier to deal with. He might be ignorant in the ways of the wizarding world, but Dean sure knew how to deal with normalised humans.

One of the neighbouring houses doors opened, and Dean hurriedly withdrew to crouch behind the hedge oN E moor. He knelt there for a moment - then realised something, and instinctively jumped in surprise as he realised what he was seeing in the corner of his eye. Castiel.

'Don't do that!' He exclaimed angrily, gritting his teeth and sighing.

'Hello Dean.'

Carefully, Dean turned round, still crouching behind the hedge, his expre ssion fixed in deadpan stone.

'Cas. We've talked about this ' He looked past the Angel's shoulder. There was about three inches between them. 'Personal space?'

Castiel looked down, blue eyes somber, then shifted back a few paces. 'My apologies.'

Dean shook his head and sighed, and stood up, stopping out to survey the house once more. 'Okay, so that's where the kid lives.' He nodded to the building. 'You ready?'

'Yes.'

'Come on, then.' He slid a long hawthorn wand from his pocket and began to walk towards the house, CAstiel following. 'Now remember; we're meant to be wizards. We need to fool this kid into thinking we're genuine, okay?'

Cas looked at him, puzzled. 'But you are a wizard, Dean.'

Dean rolled his eyes 'Jeez, what I would give for people to stop telling me that.' He tlookeeeeee to Castiel. 'Now have you got your stick thingy?'

'You mean the fourteen-and-a-half inch length of cedar wood with a Phoenix feather core known as a wand that is currently in my pocket.' Castiel double checked.

Dean looked at him. 'Yeah, Cas, that. Now take it out of your pocket and let's go.'

They resumed walking across the street, Dean strading up the garden path and up the door, proceeding to thump it loudly upon reaching it. Castiel followed, looking around in curiosity. Wizards and witches perplexed him - they were often out of angelic jurisdiction and he had never directly dealt with them before. God had created them to watch over humans, so it was said; but that had been the purpose of the Angels as well - had he not trusted them enough to do it without wizardig kind there to make sure? Why had he created this race? That was what he wanted to find out in his time here, he wanted to study then, to learn everything he could and such the bottom of this mystery, find an explanation. The stories couldn't be true.

'Jeez, what is taking them so long?' Dean questioned irritably, thumping the door again. The faint sound of yelling could be heard, and as footsteps began to approach the door. Dean turned to Cas hurriedly and said in a low voice; 'Now Cas, let me do the talking, okay? No telling him that you're an 'Angel of the Lord', we won't get anything out of him if we make ourselves out to be insane.'

'Okay.' Cas replied, his mind elsewhere as he ran his eyes over the lawn. A cat had just bounded out of the bushes next door and was slowly slinking across the patch of grass. Could this be a magical cat? It might be able to tell them something. Now it was rolling around in one of the borders, covering itself with dirt… yes, this was definitely something. Cas turned to wander towards it, kneeling down and addressing the feline beast on its level.

'Greetingx, Domus Cattus.' He spoke in gravelly, serious tones. The cat stopped rolling and looked up at him with clear eyes. 'Good, I have your attention. Now tell me, do you know anything about the boy who lives here? Harry… Blotter, I think his name is.'

In the background, there was the sound of the door opening and an English-Accented voice answering the door before Dean's low tones spoke a reply. This went unnoticed to Cas as he watched the cat, who simply stared at him, then meowed plaintively. The Angel creased his brow. 'I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.' He reached down to pick up the creature carefully and held it under the arms out in front of him, looking it carefully into its eyes. 'I'll repeat myself, do you know anything about Harry Blotter?'

There was a tense silence heavy with expectancy as Cas concentrated heavily in the cat, the poor animal looking around in confusion. In the meantime, Dean and a teenage boy wearing glasses had been watching in confusion. Dean coughed hastily.

'Er, Cas?' He called. 'What are you doing?

Castiel turned round, still holding the cat aloft. 'I was interrogating the cat.' At that moment, the creature let out another yowling meow and Cas turned back to face it, momentarily squinting his eyes as he examined it once more, then he shook his head. 'He knows nothing.' With no prior warning, he dropped the cat and let it nosedive to the floor. The aninal took a moment to recover and then shot into the bushes, still yowling.

'Mr Tibbles?' The boy at the door called in alarm, scanning the garden for the cat with concerned eyes. Dean tooh this opportunity to facepalm. A moment later, the boy turned back to Dean and looked from him to Castiel in confusion. 'I'm sorry, but - who are you?'

Dean shot an implying glance at Cas, who, after a confused pause, moved up the path to stand next to him, and coughed. 'We're, uh, from the Ministry of Magic. Department of Wizarding Security.' He lifted up the fake I.D. he had managed to make the other day. From his side, Cas was continuing to inspect the porch, and Dean nUdged him with his elbow. Jumping back into gear, Cas twitched, then realised what was going on, and reached inside his overcoat hurriedly for his I.D., and then proceeded to hold it upside down for Harry Potter to see.

Dean watched as Cas continued to hold it upside down, unblinking and unaware as a confused Harry Potter peered at it, then sighed, and reached to turn it the right way up. 'He's new.' Was all he said to Harry, before placing his hands into his trouser pockets authoritively. 'Now, is it okay if we come in and ask you some questions?'

Harry looked from one man to the other. 'If you're from the Ministry, why are you American?' He questioned, then glanced at Dean's I.D. 'And they never carry Muggle I.D.s.' He said, unsure.

'Well, er,' Dean gave a quick grin. 'They're new, so we can deal with , er, Muggles, pretend we're cops.' He turned round quickly and snatched Castiel's I.D. out of his hands, putting them both into the inside pocket of his jacket before returning to speak to Harry. 'And we do security for uh, U.S. border control, so it's only proper that we're, you know,' Dean put on his terrible English accent to finish his sentence; ' _'Yanks'_.'

Harry looked at him as if he thought he was mentally impaired. 'If you're border control, why do you want to talk to me?'

Dean looked upwards, trying to dream up an excuse, but suddenly, the boy's face dawned in realisation and he looked at Dean keenly. 'Wait - did Dumbledore send you?'

Oh, the Dumbledork guy. Dean remembered. He was pretty sure that the dude was the Principal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Bobby had said he was very close to Potter. 'Uh, yeah.' He answered, his voice changing to become firmer. 'Yeah, he sent us. Just to check up on you. Can we come in? I'm Agent Bonham and this here is my partner, Agent Moscoe.' He gestured to Cas.

A hint of worry and sorrow crept onto his face. 'I'm sorry, I can't - My Aunt and Uncle, they-'

With perfect timing, a high, female voice called from the sitting room. 'Harry? Harry, who are you talking to?' A thin, brown haired woman came into the hall, eyes tunning suspicious when she saw Dean and Castiel. . 'Who are these people?' She turned to her nephew, but didn't have him a chance to speak, addressing Dean and Cas a second later. 'We do not abide with cold callers at this hou-'

'Agents Bonham and Moscoe, Ma'am.' Dean gave a quick, cool smile and held up his I.D., gesturing to Cas, who was stood beside him. 'From the Ministry of Magic. Department of Wizarding Security.' A frightened light brightened in the woman's eyes, and then an angry one. Dean judged the way she was glaring at them and then her nephew, and swiftly added. 'And we dabble in the, er, Department for the Treatment of Magical Orphans.' Her eyes dawned with unease as he gave her another smirk; 'DTMO for short.' He added.

The woman nodded quickly, her eyes lowered nervously. 'I'm Petunia Dursley, 'Harry's Aunt.' She added the latter fact darkly. 'Come in, then. She said coldly, moving aside and pushing Harry out of the way roughly . Dean gave another quick smile and moved to enter the house, gesturing Cas to follow him. They were ushered into a pristine, dull sitting room, the front door closing behind them with a bang, and Dean fell onto one of the sofas with no sense of grace whilst Cas hovered next to him, standing up, before Dean pulled him down to sit down as well. Meanwhile, Harry hesitantly took a seat on the sofa nearest to them and Petunia Dursley hurried out of the room, calling 'Vernon!', presumably to summon her husband. As soon as she exited the room, Harry leant forward worriedly, addressing Dean.

'What is it? Why has he sent you? Is something wrong?'

Dean looked briefly at Cas, exchanging glances, and then turned back to Harry. 'Nothing's happened kid, don't worry. As I said, we just wanna ask you a few questions.' He said reassuringly.

The boy gave a sigh of relief. 'Okay.' He answered, looking at them sincerely. 'What d'you wanna to know?'

'Well, first things first and all that - have you felt under threat at any time this summer?' Dean asked, leaning forward confidently. 'Have you… felt like you were being watched, at all? Have you noticed anyone watching you?'

'Er… no.' Said Harry, looking uneasily from one 'Agent' to the other. 'Should I be worried?'

'Oh no, no, we haven't had any reports.' Dean answered. 'We're just double checking.' He smiled briefly. 'Now, has anything happened related to, ahem - 'You-Know-Who and all that?'

Instead of looking taken aback, as Dean had expected from his blunt question, Harry simply became subdued, looking away. 'No.' He looked back up and added monotonously: 'Nothing at all.'

Dean nodded slightly, unconvinced. The kid was definitely lying.

'What about the dream?' Dean almost jumped as Cas spoke beside him, and looked round to see the Angel peering at a now wide-eyed Harry Potter. Oh great, Cas was trying to read the boy's mind. 'The one with the old human and… the, the-' Cas was creasing his brow now, obviously losing his grip on what he was attempting to say.

'How- What dream?' Harry cut in a little too fast, and Dean turned back to him to notice the slight glint of fear in the kid's eyes. 'I don't know what you're on about.' Harry gave a slight, breathy chuckle that was partially eclipsed by the explosive entrance of large, red-faced man puffing angrily; the woman, Petunia Dursley, and a smaller, but equally overweight lump of a boy with thin blonde hair and a discontented, confused expression on his chubby face. The man stormed up to Dean and Cas at once, his double chins wobbling and moustache over his top lip twitching as he yelled at them.

'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?' He demanded, breathing heavily in his aggression. 'YOU FILTHY MAGICAL FREAKS, YOU GET OUT NOW, OR I'M CALLING THE POLICE!'

Dean gritted his teeth, pulling out his I.D. and looking up at the seething man, who he'd already guessed to be Potter's Uncle. 'Mr. Dursley, I'm Agent Bonham from the Ministry of Magic and this is my partner Agent-'

'I DON'T CARE WHO YOU RUDDY WELL ARE OR WHERE YOU'RE FROM, I WANT YOU OUT OF MY HOUSE, NOW. PETUNIA-' His wife jumped next to him. 'SHOW THEM THE DOOR. NOW!'

Mrs Dursley moved to scurry to the door, but Dean stood up authoritively before she could get there, setting his jaw determinedly and locking eyes with Vernon Dursley with unwavering hostility. This was enough to stop the aggressive man in the middle of his mantra as well, and Dean quickly used the silence to shut him down. Meanwhile, the son had caught Cas's eye, and he was staring at him curiously, the fat teenager retreating anxiously in the foreground as he met Cas's gaze.

'MR Dursley.' Dean began, facing the man head on, eyes cold, voice becoming soft with underlying threat. 'I know that you have authority issues, appear to be a control freak and are scared shitless of us, but you can't order us to leave. All we're doing is asking your nephew here some questions, and then we'll be on our way."

'WHAT! YOU RUDE LITTLE-'

'I will also add, Mr Dursley, that we work part time in the Department for the Treatment of Magical Orphans-' Dean watched Dursley's eyes flicker with a spark of fear '- at the Ministry of Magic.' He stared the pathetic man down, towering over him. It was a shame Sam wasn't here, he'd practically be a giant next to the guy. 'And the situation in your home has not slipped under our radar.' He looked from the fat kid to the fatter Dad. 'For instance, why are you and your kid so chubby and your Nephew like a goddam stick?'

Good, Dursley was holding back his aggression now. Dean had got him. After a pause, Vernon Dursley turned stiffly and slowly lowered himself onto the third sofa, his son, who was still eyeing Castiel with fear, quickly sitting down next to him, and his wife perching on the arm, pursing her lip and looking frail. After sending a quick smirk their way, Dean sat back down once more. There was a slightly silence, and then Dursley finally spoke, his voice dripping in repressed anger.

'If you dare insult my son again, you will be thrown out of here, whether you're from the Ministry of Freaks or not.' He said, shaking as he spoke, eyes glittering with fury.

'Got it.' Dean flashed another smile, and then turned to Harry. 'So, Harry, how's… school going for you? At.. Hogwash - Hogwarts?' Dean asked, trying to sound friendly.

'Er, well, thanks.' Harry answered doubtfully, glancing from his seething Uncle to a smiling Dean. 'I go back soon.'

'Did you notice any sulphurous smells when you were there last?' Suddenly, Cas cut in, his intense gaze fixed intently on Harry. 'Or anyone with eyes that were black?.'

'Err, sulphurous smells?' Harry looked at Cas in confusion,. What d'you mean?'

'I'm told sulphur smells like the scent of rotten eggs to humans.' Cas went on as Dean tried to resist facepalming and simply closed his eyes. Sulphur- basically indicates the presence of demons. Like this kid was gonna have any idea if a pack of demons were roaming the school. Castiel continued in his ever-gruff voice. 'Have you, by any chance, smelt that around the school?'

'Er - no.' Harry answered, looking confused and weirded out. Vernon, at the meantime, was staring at Castiel as if he were a three-eyed alien. Hurriedly, Dem took over, this time addressing Dursley's.

'So, have you, as Harry's family, experienced anything strange this summer?' He questioned, raising one eyebrow. 'Anything to do with Harry's school, or his- our kind?'

Neither Mr or Mrs Dursley made a sound - instead, it was Dudley who gave them away, stumbling over his words as he neglected to think about what he was saying. 'Well what about-' he began, addressing his parents - and was then promptly silenced by them.

'Be quiet, Dudley.' Vernon Dursley spoke through gritted teeth and in a whisper, but Cas heard him. Strangely, Harry also looked towards his cousin in alarm.

'Let your son speak, Mr Dursley.' Castiel's serious, insisting voice appeared to intimidate the man.

'Dudley said nothing.' Dursley said shortly, looking as if he was about to have a fit, one eye twitching momentarily.

Dean rolled his eyes, and turned to the fat, wobbling kid. 'You do know that it's against the law to withhold information from the ministry, right?'

Dudley looked as if he had just shat himself. 'Wh-wha-'

'Are you threatening my son?' Vernon had jumped into it now, his blood obviously on the boil. 'We know you can't attack us; it's against your ruddy laws! There's nothing you can do - ha!'

Dean blinked, looking down, and smiled. 'Well, here's the thing, Mr Dursley.' He began, his voice soft as he looked up at the porky, red-faced man. 'You'd be breaking our laws by withholding information so actually, yeah, we can threaten you, and we can prosecute you too. You fancy my friend practising his skills on you? You'd sure make a stunning pig.'

Mrs Dursely whimpered in the background, and her husband looked as if he was about to burst with rage, but neither of them said anymore. Dean looked back to Dudley, who, trembling, began to speak.

'W-well there was that letter,' He looked to his parents. 'F-from that, that man. Mr. Black.'

Dean's eyes widened with surprise, and Cas looked to his friend, but they didn't have time to exchange a word, Harry butting in as soon as Dudley had uttered the words, speaking rapdily and with an air of subdued panic.

'I did see a this woman,' He began, hurriedly trying to change the subject - small wonder as to why. 'At Hogwarts. Last year. She had eyes like you were telling me about - all black, like it was all pupil or something. But I don't know who she was - she wasn't actually at the school, she was in Hogsmeade. The village students visit at the weekends.' He looked to Cas. 'I thought it was just some spell or something. Are you saying there's more to it than that?'

'What did the woman look like, Harry?' Asked Dean, exchanging glances with Cas. Why did he feel like he knew what the kid's answer was gonna be?

Harry creased his brow in concentration, trying to remember. 'I-I dunno - I can't really remember now. She had brown hair, I think - and it was sort of wavy, maybe? She was kind of short, as well, for a woman - like the same height as me?' He shrugged, then frowned in concentration again. 'And she looked like she was in her twenties or something.' He looked to Dean . 'That's all I can remember, sorry.' Why is it important, though?'

'Classified information,' Dean answered, giving a regretful smile. 'Sorry kid.' He looked at Castiel, whose expression was serious. They both knew who the demon was, and they both knew what this meant. Dean tucked his badge into his jacket properly, straightened his tie, and sighed conclusively. 'Well, we'd best be going now.' He smiled from the Dursleys to Harry, receiving glares and gazes of terror from the family across the room and a slight, nervous smile from the Potter boy. 'Come on, Cas.' He began to walk from the living room, Petunia Dursley jumping up to get the door. On the way out, Castiel stopped in front of Dudley, looking down at him with a look of intense fascination on his face as the boy trembled , and his father looked as if he was restraining himself from punching the angel.

'You're very overweight.' Cas said, staring at Dudley with curiousity, his voice gravelly and low. 'I never did understand the human fascination with food. Famine hasn't been around here lately, has he? He is known for causing great hunger and unfulfilled gluttony.'

'Why you LITTLE-' Vernon began, but Dean was too quick, grabbing his friend by the arm and hauling him out of the sitting room. Dursley's shouts, however, could be heard rising from where they were in the hallway.

'Jeez, Cas, could you at least pretend you have some people skills?' Dean said to him, striding towards the front door so they could let themselves out.

Cas looked disgruntled. 'It's not my fault if my 'people skills' are 'rusty.' Pardon me but I have sPent the last year as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent.' On alternating words, he made the speech marks sign in the air, prompting Dean to stare at him.

'Dude, you really need to work on understanding irony.'

Cas looked at Dean questioningly, but had no time to reply, as Vernon Dursley came storming into the hallway a second later, Dean opening the door hurriedly as he saw him coming. 'That's right, get out! Go! If you ever dare show your face here again!'

'Okay, okay, we got it, Flintstone.' Dean stepped out onto the doorstep, Cas following him just in time to turn round and have the door slammed in his face. Dean rolled his eyes, turning away, and walked down the garden path. 'Well there's a happy family for you. Jeez.' He sighed. 'That poor Potter kid - not only is he being hounded by Lord Smorgasbord, he's gotta deal with those jerks as well.'

'They were certainly very strange.' Cas agree, creasing his brow. 'I don't understand why they appeared offended by my comment; I was only stating a fact.'

They had come to where the Impala was parked, and Dean reached for the driver side door.

'Well, Cas sometimes humans don't wanna know the facts.' Dean replied, pausing to take in the boring, normal human neighbourhood around him. It might have been mundane, but at least it was what he knew. He knew he was going to be forced into the magical world on this mission; into a place where everything would be unknown and he'd have to look to his brother for help. The fact was, it was going to happen soon. Very soon. And he didn't known what he was going to do. Dean opened the car door. 'Sometimes we just wanna stay nice and comfortable and avoid facing up to the truth.'

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hey guys, thanks for sticking with me to read this chapter! Don't worry, things are just getting going - Dean and Cas will be confusing Weasleys and dealing with Veela in no time ;) Any ideas of who the woman Harry mentioned is though? :P**


	6. Chapter Five: A Totally Normal Wizard

**Chapter Six - A Totally Normal, Average American Wizard**

* * *

The air was biting and the moon hung in the sky over Ottery St. Catchpole as Harry, Hermione and a handful of Weasleys left The Burrow, daybreak on the horizon. Mr Weasley lead the straggling group, closely followed by Fred and George, who were muttering moodily among themselves and throwing dangerous scowls in every direction - Mrs. Weasley had just confiscated the last of their ton-tongue toffees and this had obviously not gone down well with either of them. Mr. Weasley Ginny strode a few metres behind them, effortlessly keeping up with her older brothers as she inspected her surroundings, Ron was busy arguing with Hermione a little in from of Harry - something about gnomes having a higher I.Q. than cats; and Harry himself was busy blinking, still trying to recover from the early awakening. According to Mr. Weasley, they had a long walk ahead of them before they would reach the Quidditch World Cup grounds. Harry's heart gave an excited leap - he would walk a thousand miles just to get to the match. He was going to see a proper, world-league Quidditch Match! He grinned to himself, then thought about the thousands of wizards speeding toward the Quidditch World Cup. Hitching his rucksack higher on his shoulders, Harry ran ahead to catch up with Mr. Weasley.

"So how does everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?" he asked curiously.

"It's been a massive organizational problem," Mr. Weasley sighed. "The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven't got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can't penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry's been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains - remember, wizards are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there's a handy boot they're using as the Apparition point. For those who don't want to Apparate, or can't, we use Portkeys. They're objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that's where we're headed."

Mr. Weasley pointed ahead of them, where the dark outline of a ridge rose above the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry raised his eyebrows as he realised that was what they were going to be climbing. He looked back to Mr. Weasley

"What sort of objects are Portkeys?"

"Well, they can be anything," said Mr. Weasley. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them ... stuff they'll just think is litter..."

They continued walking, passing through the village in silence, Harry falling back once more to join Ron and Hermione, who were now apparently not speaking because Ron had 'insulted Crookshanks' dignity'. Harry avoided getting involved, and watched his breath steam in the air like dragonsmoke, rubbing furiously at his hands in an attempt to feel them again. Ron took this opportunity to gloat about the gloves he had enchanted to heat themselves.

'Charmed them last week,' He said smugly, holding his hands out and wriggling his fingers under Harry's nose. 'My hands feel like they're in an oven, all toasty and warm.'

'Get off, you git.' Harry pushed Ron away in good nature as his friend placed a hand on his shoulder gloatingly. Ron was right, the gloves were warm - in fact, Harry felt as if he'd just been burnt. He rubbed his shoulder confusedly as Ron turned to Hermione, face taunting.

'See, I told you I could charm objects properly!' He said, thrusting them into Hermione's face this time.

Hermione looked unimpressed. 'I'm not sure you're meant to charm material like thjat.' She frowned and took a step back. 'What spell did you use?'

'I dunno, just a heating charm.'

'Well of course, Ronald, but what kind of heating charm? What was the incantation?'

'Why should I tell you? They're working fine, stop being such an busybody.'

'What! I'm concerned, Ronald! The laws of charms state-'

'Yeah concerned my arse-'

'Er Ron.' Harry interjected hesitantly. 'Are they meant to do that?'

Hermione looked up at him angrily, but Ron had caught on sooner. He looked down at his hands in horror and held them up in front of him.

'Bloody hell!'

Hermione's eyes went wide in alarm and she whirled round to see that Ron's gloves were smoking, tiny flames beginning to appear in the material. She stood there, paralysed for a second, and then turned began to try and bat at them frantically, Harry glancing wildly around for anything that might help, Ron screaming uselessly and continuing to stand there and watch his hands catch alight. In the end, however, it was Ginny who solved the problem. A few steps ahead of them, she unscrewed the cap of her water bottle and threw it over Ron.

There was a pause. Ron, now half-soaked, slowly looked up at his sister.

'You idiot! Look what you've done, I'm going to freeze now!' He yelled angrily, taking off his gloves and throwing them to the ground.

'Oh gosh, I'm so sorry - I guess should have just let your hands get roasted.' Ginny rolled her eyes, voice sarcastic.'You know, a 'thank you' would have been suffice.'

Harry began to laugh - and then instantly regretted it. Ginny turned her large brown eyes to look at him, and, a second later, looked away, flushing with embarrassment. She looked to Ron hurriedly.

'You'd better hurry up, Ron; Dad says we've gotta meet this American guy up on Stoatshead as well.'

'Wait, what?' Ron looked at his sister in confusion 'What American?'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Have you been living on another planet, Ron? Dumbledore told Dad he wanted him to look after some new Transfer student who's going to Hogwarts this year. We're going to the Quidditch world cup with him, apparently.'

'I wasn't told about this!' Ron said, as if it were an outrage. Hermione, in turn, was joining Ginny in the eye rolling.

'Your Mother told you yesterday, Ronald. Don't you remember anything?'

'Just leave it, mate.' Harry murmured to his friend as Ron opened his mouth to answer back. Hermione had moved to stand with Ginny and he didn't like the looks on their faces - he felt as if he were about to get told off by two copies of Mrs. Weasley.

Ron looked from Ginny to Hermione, and shut his mouth, instead simply glaring at the two witches. A second later, Mr. Weasley's voice called from in front.

'Come on, kids! We can't be late for this!'

'Come on.' Said Ron grouchily, striding ahead. Ginny rolled her eyes, tossing her hair and running ahead to join Fred and George. The remaining trio fell in line, Hermione handing Ron a spare pair of gloves, which he accepted grouchily before changing the subject, as if attempting to eclipse this weakness.

'Wonder what this American will be like.' He said grumpily. 'Annoying, most like.'

'You haven't even met him yet!' Hermione protested. 'I bet he'll be quite nice. We could learn a lot about the wizarding world in the United States.'

'I don't think he'd be charmed by you picking his brains at first sight, Hermione.' Harry said. 'Isn't a bit strange, though, Dumbledore asking your Dad to look after him? Does he do this kind of thing often?'

Ron shook his head, creasing his brow. 'No, never. Not that I know of, anyway. Besides, I don't know why he's asked us to look out for this guy. I mean, we're hardly special as far as wizarding families go.'

'That's not true.' Hermione interjected. 'You're very friendly - you practically adopted Harry and I for the week. Maybe Dumbledore's looking for someone who can make this guy feel at home.'

Ron raised his eyebrows, trying to shrug off praise that obviously pleased him. 'Well I'm happy for us to 'adopt' you and Harry, but I can't see some annoying American wizard becoming part of the family.'

The conversation subsided as they reached the bottom of Stoatshead Hill and began to climb, robbed of any breath as they ascended the steep slope. Hermione clutched at a stitch in her side, falling behind; Ron stopped every few minutes to 'admire the view', and Harry mainly focused on trying to breathe, the excitement in his chest spurring him on. The sun rose on the horizon as they reached the top, Mr. Weasley pausing as he reached the top, turning round to squint and watch as various members of the procession made it up the hill; Ginny and Hermione being the last ones up. Once up, however, they both froze slightly - with the same look on their faces. It appeared they were looking at something - or someone - behind the group consisting of Mr. Weasley, Harry, Ron, Fred and George.

'Uh - hi.' Harry jumped as a voice spoke behind them, one and all of them turning in surprise to see young man standing before them, smiling hesitantly as he looked to Mr Weasley. He was tall - very tall, standing even higher than Fred and George - and very broad; an impressive set of muscles visible despite the thick coat he wore. A large, heavy-duty duffle bag was slung over his right shoulder, and his face was slightly pale, cheekbones sharp in the light, and was framed by long, dark hair that was blowing slightly in the wind. 'Are you Arthur Weasley? Albus Dumbledore sent me - I'm the American Transfer?'

'Oh, hello!' Mr Weasley stepped forward, a grin spreading across his face. He stepped forward to shake the guy's hand jovially. 'Yes, Arthur Weasley; pleased to meet you. Samuel Winchester, isn't it?'

'Uh, yes. And it's Sam.' The wizard corrected Mr. Weasley, smiling.

'Oh of course, of course.' Mr Weasley replied. 'This lot here are some of my brood - that's Fred, George, Ron and Ginny.' The Twins stared with an air of curiosity, Ron humphed grumpily and Ginny stole a sly, wide-eyed glance at the American before turning away to share a grin with Hermione. 'And these two are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.'

'Wait - Harry Potter?' The young man's eyes widened as he stared at Harry. An excited glint had come to them and suddenly he burst into animated speech. 'Oh my god, it's so great to meet you! I mean, you're basically a legend in the US - you're in like so many magical history books; _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , _Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century_ , _Modern Magical History_ , _Britain's Wizarding Legacy_ , _An American Wizard's guide to European History_ … the list just goes on and on!'

Harry looked at him faintly. 'Oh, yeah, thanks.' He gave a slight smile. There was a strong feeling of deja vu in the air. 'Er, great to meet you too!'

Beside Harry, Ron muttered under his breath. 'Heads up - it's a male Hermione.'

'Oh shoot!' Mr Weasley was looking at his watch. 'Come on kids, we'd better find this portkey quickly!' He began to move across the moor, the group behind him following with confusion.

'Er, what kind of thing are we looking for, Mr Weasley?' Harry called.

'Portkeys are disguised as objects No-Majs wouldn't bother picking up by accident, so it'll probably be like, an odd glove, a discarded magazine, something like that.' Sam replied, before Mr Weasley had the chance to open his mouth. He seemed to realise how he'd come across a second later, and smiled quickly. 'Sorry, I guess I sound a real wise ass at the moment. My bad.'

'Wise ass?' Fred and George were the first to speak; chorusing in unison as they looked at the American with cheeky expressions. It was not an English phrase, and they were looking for trouble. Fred went first, putting on a mock-posh voice. 'Are you complimenting yourself, my man?'

'Do you believe you are above us in the category of arses?' George chipped in.

'You know vanity isn't an attractive trait.'

'Although your arse might be, from the way Ginny's looking at it.'

'GEORGE!' Ginny yowled, her face red with anger. Ron and Harry snorted in the background, watching the scene with barely concealed amusement, and Sam seemed to be trying to smile whilst obviously lost for how to react. Taking pity on him, Hermione comforted Ginny by patting her on the arm and glared at the boys.

'Wise ass means smart arse, you imbeciles.' She translated for them, sending looks of disgust their way. She looked shyly at Sam, who smiled at her briefly. His eyes were tense and alert, and she avoided meeting them.

'What's the wizarding community like in the United States?' She asked, her voice surprisingly strong. To accommodate for talking to Sam, she had gone into her fact-finding, straight-talking mode, her voice extremely matter-of-fact. 'Don't you have different laws concerning Muggles?'

'Not anymore.' Sam gave her another brief smile. 'Used to be very anti No-Maj, but it's much better now. Ever since we had a visit from one of you Brits.'

'Oh of course, Newt Scamander's visit to New York!' Hermione's eyes were alight with focus now. She looked as if she were interrogating the guy, on a quest to pick his brains. 'Where do you live in America?'

'Uh, New York, actually.' Sam answered. 'I used to travel around a lot though, when I was a kid.'

'Oh, so does magical attitude change according to each state? I hear it's very diverse across the country.'

'Yeah - I mean, I think so. We never stayed in one place that long. Amazing magical history though. I always used to read books on wherever we were going next.' Sam's eyes misted slightly, as if reminiscing of old times.

'Oh my goodness, I do the same! Well, I haven't travelled across America, of course, but whenever me and my parents would travel around England or to France or anywhere I would simply read as MUCH as I could on the place - everywhere is just so interesting! And I also-'

'FOUND IT!' A yell from Mr Weasley cut Hermione's rambling short, and the group looked up to see him standing next to two figures, one tall and slim; the other a few inches shorter and rounder in in silhouette. 'Hurry up!' Mr Weasley called, and the group pressed on; Sam smiling kindly at Hermione, who abandoned her ramble. She returned the gesture shyly after a pause, and then fell back to join Harry and Ron.

'He's alright isn't he.' She remarked, studying Sam's back as he walked in front.

'Yeah, I suppose so.' Harry said, also looking to the American. 'But we have only just met him.'

'Well, even then, he seems reasonable enough.' She stated; obviously playing down what she already thought of the wizard, who had won her approval already, even if she didn't realise it yet.

Ron looked at her briefly, and then set his brow. 'I say never judge a book by its cover. I mean, like Harry says, we don't know him yet. He could be anyone.'

'What on earth do you mean?' Hermione questioned incredulously, hearing the suspicion in Ron's tone.

'Just saying that for all we know, he could be a bad guy.'

'A _bad_ _guy_?'

'They're big into enchanted Muggle firearms in America. He could be a gun-nut.'

'Really?' Harry chipped in, curious. 'How do they enchant them?'

'They shoot spells, magical bullets and that.' Ron answered helpfully, turning to Harry.

Hermione, meanwhile, gave an exasperated scoff. 'Ronald, I highly doubt Dumbledore would admit a 'gun nut' to Hogwarts, let alone ask your father to look after them.'

'Well you never know, maybe he needs watching.' Ron refused to let go of his point, unwilling to let Hermione win - like a lot arguments between the two, it had become a competition.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but never got the chance. A second later, they witnessed an object falling from the American's rucksack in front. He didn't appear to notice; so, after exchanging glances, the trio accelerated forward. When they reached it, Harry was the one to scoop the object off the ground, holding it up to look at as a moment of curiosity flitted by. It was a brown paper package; oblong and fairly heavy - there was a small tear in the corner and it appeared to be leaking a white substance.

'What is it?' Asked Ron.

'Salt, I think.' Answered Harry, examining the parcel and the powder that was now on his hands.

'Why does he have this much salt in his bag?' Questioned Ron ludicrously. Harry shrugged in reply and, as if disturbed by the voices, the American turned round from where he was a few paces ahead.

'Oh, you dropped this, Sam.' Harry said, seeing the wizard had registered what he was holding. Sam walked back to them, and Harry handed him the package with a smile.

'Oh, right.' Sam took it from Harry and slipped off his backpack stuffing the package into one of the pockets. 'Thanks, I didn't notice.' He looked up at them, giving them a smile. Harry realised briefly that Sam's eyes, even when he was smiling, held a constant tension, as if he were perpetually on edge, holding something back.

'Looking to ward off some evil spirits?' Joked Hermione, slightly nervously.

Sam laughed. 'Uh, no. My, um, my brother is just a terrible cook. Only way to make his food edible is to add a shit tonne of salt to it.'

The trio laughed vaguely. 'So you're brother's going to be at the world cup too?' Enquired Hermione politely.

'Er, yeah.' Sam smiled. 'And my cous-'

'Oho, what do we have here?' The Weasley twins, having overheard the conversation, appeared. It was Fred who had spoken. 'What's this I hear about warding off evil spirits?'

'Sensible, you know.' Said George, addressing Sam. 'We do have some terrifying monsters over here in Britain.'

Fred took his turn. 'Yeah, we're far more barbaric over here. Far scarier monsters. Vampires.'

'Vampires are native to Romania.' Hermione interjected, but was promptly ignored.

'Werewolves.' George continued.

'Mummies.'

'Severus Snape.'

'Krakens.'

'Snogmonsters.'

'Snogmonsters?' Questioned Ron. Harry and Him were grinning faintly whilst Hermione rolled her eyes. Sam's expression held a hint of amusement.

'Better known by the name of of Angelina Johnson.' George informed Ron matter-o-factly before exchanging a grin with his twin. Fred then turned to Sam again.

'So yeah, you'd watch out. You never know when the monsters'll come for you.'

Sam grinned, raising his eyebrows. 'Don't worry, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to take them on.'

They had reached Mr Weasley now, the conversation ending as he turned to address the group. 'Ah, finally! Everyone here? Good, good. Oh, this is Amos Diggory, everyone.' Mr Weasley gestured to the shorter wizard who he had been conversing with; a ruddy-faced man with a scrubby brown bear who was holding a mouldy-looking boot in one hand. 'He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?'

It was only when Mr Weasley gestured to the young man and is memory was jogged that Harry realised that he _did_ know Cedric Diggory. Cedric was Quidditch Captain and Seeker for Hufflepuff, in his seventh year and known for his academic brilliance, sporting talent and extreme good looks. Already Ginny had reacted in the foreground, glancing from Cedric to Sam (who was standing by amicably, watching the scene with tense eyes) and whispering to Hermione.

'Good grief, I don't know where to look!'

Cedric shed a warm smile upon the group. 'Hi.' He said, looking round at them all

They all returned the greeting, apart from Fred and George, who simply nodded curtly - they still hadn't forgiven Cedric for beating them at Quidditch last year.

'All these yours, Arthur?' Asked Amos Diggory, peering goodnaturedly at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Sam.

'Only the redheads.' Answered Mr Weasley; gesturing to his children. 'This lot here are Hermione, friend of Ron's; Harry, another friend-'

"Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes wide as he turned to Harry, quickly finding the lightning scar on his forehead. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Er - yeah," said Harry. He felt uncomfortable - he should really have been used to this by now.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," said Amos Diggory. "Told us all about playing against you last year...I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will...You beat Harry Potter!"

Harry stayed silent, unable to come up with a reply, and Fred and George were both scowling again. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed, looking down at the ground

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he muttered. I told you...it was an accident..."

Amos Diggory laughed, and looked as if he were going to continue his joyful gloating when his eyes fill upon Sam, who was not easy to miss due to his height. Mr Diggory had caught him in the act of raising his eyebrows, a slight grin on his face. Pursing his mouth slightly, Mr Diggory made eye contact with Sam, who promptly stopped grinning, and turned to Mr Weasley.

'Who have we here, Arthur? You didn't introduce this one.'

'Oh yes, sorry!' Mr Weasley jumped into gear. 'This is Sam Winchester, and American transfer who'll be joining the kids at Hogwarts this year. Dumbledore said he was going to the Cup and asked me if I'd look out for him, show what wizarding Britain's like.' Sam turned to Mr Diggory and gave a brief smile, holding out his hand.

'Nice to meet you, Mr Diggory.'

Amos Diggory said nothing more, his eyes showing a hint of suspicion as he eyed the wizard, but he shook Sam's outstretched hand and there was little time to dwell on the moment, Mr Weasley exclaiming a second later:

'Oh, we're a minute off. Better get ready-' He turned to Harry, Hermione and Sam whilst the others began to cluster around the old boot that Amos Diggory had now placed on the ground. "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -"

Perplexed but doing as Mr Weasley said, Harry followed the others and joined the crowd around the old boot. Sam, surprisingly, seemed to know what to do at once; setting himself up with ease. Perhaps he was from an all-wizarding family, Harry thought fleetingly, although the idea was cut short by Mr Weasley's countdown the next second.

"Three..." muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, two...one..."

It happened immediately: Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then -

Harry hit the ground with a slam, the air pushed out of him. Groggily, he began to rise, as a voice called in the background. _"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill."_

Harry rose to his feet with difficulty, slightly shaky from the impact, and looked around to see the others also rising - apart from Sam, who was already up and looking about with interest, adjusting his backpack heftily. Harry blinked rapidly and followed Mr Weasley as he conversed with the wizards managing the Portkeys before moving on through the mist; tracking across a deserted moor towards what they could only make out as a distant light.

'Gosh, it feels like we're in a Victorian tragedy.' Remarked Hermione, adjusting her rucksack with difficulty. She was panting slightly, and laughed wheezily. 'Perhaps we'll get set upon by ghosts.'

'Hmmm, could happen. Have to be a cemetery or a church nearby, though, and this seems pretty deserted.' Sam answered. He was walking next to her, and, upon her comment, looked up to scan the area, as if considering it as a valid point. He realised, a second later, that Harry, Ron and Hermione were staring at him, and quickly added. 'Uh, you want me to take your bag, Hermione?'

She looked at him, curiosity still lingering in her gaze. 'Oh no, no, it's fine.'

The light, as it turned out, belonged to a tiny cottage that marked the base of the campsite where they were to stay, and they struggled there for a few minutes whilst Mr Weasley tackled the Muggle in charge of the place. It seemed that every few minutes he began to smell a rat; a wizard wearing plus-fours who was part of the set up appearing to promptly obliviate the poor man before they finally got through. The man accompanied them as they headed for the gate of the campsite, muttering to Mr Weasley:

"Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur." He Disapparated, leaving Ginny to turn and question her father;

"I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," said Ginny, looking surprised. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"

"He should," said Mr. Weasley, smiling, and leading them through the gates into the campsite, "but Ludo's always been a bit...well...lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."

Suddenly, just as Mr Weasley finished his statement, a dark shape sprang from between the tents; hurling itself at the group with ferocity. It was too fast for Harry to follow - in the heat of the moment he wondered if some humanoid magical creature had got into the camp - a vampire, maybe?

There was a yelp at his side and a painful thumping noise before the scene cleared and Harry realised what was going on. It was Sam who had been felled by the assailant, and he was currently rolling around on the grass aiming punches at it and grunting with effort as he apparently tried to the fight it off. The dark shape, Harry realised - was a man.

Mr Weasley stepped forward, exclaiming; 'Get off him you brute; you can't physically attack people, it's-' He was soon silenced as the two jumped up, squared each other, and the attacker spun round to hold Sam in what looked to be an extremely painful stance; one arm pressed at an uncomfortable angle behind his back. Sam was busy attempting to twist round, struggling in the grip of his assailant.

'Woahh, easy tiger.' The man restraining him grinned. He was young and extremely handsome; beating Cedric and Sam in that department, and that was saying something. There was a cocky, self-assured look to his face and it looked as if he knew Sam; ignoring the rest of the group.

'Dean?' It looked as if Sam hadn't realised who his attacker was either, until now. 'You scared the crap out me!'

'That's 'cause you're out of practice.' The man answered smugly. Sam visibly gritted his teeth and, a second later, twisted round in a blur and whirled round to hold his attacker in the same position he had previously been captured in. The man laughed, grinning. 'Or not. Get off me.'

Sam sighed and let the man go, brushing himself down whilst the other guy turned to the dumbstruck group before him. 'So, who have we here?'

Sam sighed, coming forward to stand beside the man and address the group reluctantly. 'Uh, everyone - this is my brother, Dean Winchester.'

Dean grinned. 'Pleased to meet y'all.'

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter, have a great day! .. Or night, fellow insomniacs.**

 **For the love of Dean, please do tell me what you think! Reviews, even if they're only a few words, really keep me going!*resists wailing self-centerdly* However, I'd like to thank SparkyFlame101, Dean salutes you! ;P**

 **1745 views.. ! Thanks so much, everyone, you're so awesome!**

 **Next time, Sam and Dean cat H sight of a familiar face - and Harry realises he's seen Dean and Cas somewhere before...**


	7. Chapter Six: Familiar Faces

**Chapter Six - Familiar Faces**

* * *

 **Phew, any fellow insomniacs out there? I stayed up till two thirty last night writing this chapter - I had originally planned to include the match and Veela scenes in it as well, but it ended up getting so long anyway, so I've had to take a new strategy - chapters will be shorter from now in, but it means I can update more frequently, and I've spent ages figuring out a new style to write in. (I don't know if you've noticed the difference, but this chapter is much more dialogue-based and snappy). Good news is that I have bits and pieces of the next two chapters already done, so I'll be posting them over the next two days (hopefully today, if I have enough free time).**

* * *

"Oh er," Mr Weasley looked at the young man in confusion and gave a brief, unsure smile. "Nice to meet you too, er, Dean. I'm Arthur Weasley and this is Fred, George, Ginny-"

"Weasley?" Dean blurted out, raising his eyebrows in humourous disbelief. He opened his mouth to laugh, and then caught sight of Sam's face, and quickly wiped the mocking grin away. "Uh- Ginny!" He turned to the girl and laugh awkwardly. "What a pretty name!"

Ginny turned beetroot red and looked down, eyes wide in terror, whilst Sam facepalmed in the background. Dean looked round, still grinning, and caught sight of Harry. He grinned faintly, face sporting an hint of arrogance. "Well, well, well," He looked him up and down. "It's Harry Potter, right?'

Harry squinted at Dean, a flash of realisation passing across his face. 'Hang on - don't I kno you?'

Dean paused, then grinned. 'Uh, no, we just met, remember? Like, two seconds ago."

'But I swear-'

'Dean.' A voice came from behind; low, gravelly and monotonous in tone. The group turned to see a young man standing before them, his eyes half-closed as he peered at the stranger. He was sporting a tan overcoat that hung limply at his sides. 'I've been looking for you for thirteen minutes and fifty-two seconds.' He looked to Sam. 'I see you found Sam.'

'Sure did.' Dean answered.

'Everyone, this is Castiel Winchester.' Sam stepped forward and gestured to Cas, who turned to examine at them all with his intensely blank stare. 'He's mine and Dean's cousin.'

'Er, hello.' Mr Weasley said hesitantly.

'Hello.' Castiel turned to stare at Mr Weasley, the wizard shifting uncomfortably under Castiel's unwavering gaze.

'Dean and Cas are gonna be joining the teaching staff at Hogwarts this summer.' Sam went on helpfully, causing most of the wizarding groups' eyes to widen. 'Dean's been accepted as a Defence Against the Dark Arts TA and Cas'll be helping Professor Hagrid teach Care of Magical Creatures.'

'Oh.' Mr Weasley looked from Cas to Dean faintly, unable to resist raising his eyebrows. 'Well that's nice. I'm sure you'll do very well.'

'Why thank you sir.' Dean replied with another obnoxious grin. 'Now, if you don't mind, we'd better get going. Got a tent to set up and all.'

'Oh of course. The same for us. We'll see you later!' Mr Weasley replied, picking up his bags and turning hastily away. 'Come on, gang. See you later, Winchesters, Sam!

'Bye, Arthur! Thanks for getting me here.' Sam answered.

'My pleasure.' Mr Weasley smiled, and then turned away, the group behind him following him. Harry, however, lingered slightly longer, as did Hermione. As Sam turned away, he flashed a smile at her.

'Bye, Hermione.'

She smiled faintly at him, and turned away, but Harry was still watching Dean and Castiel Winchester walk away when Ron nudged him to move.

'Oi.' Ron said to him. 'Come on, we've gotta get a move on, otherwise we'll lose Dad. Bloody hell, it's like a maze in here.'

Hermione, however, noticed the look on Harry's face as he turned back to them and began to walk. 'Harry? What's wrong.'

Harry creased his brow, shaking his head. 'I don't know.' He said, puzzled, and glanced behind him once more. 'It's just - I swear I met those two guys before. They came to my Aunt and Uncle's house in the holidays, said they were from the Ministry'

'Wait, what?' Ron questioned in confusion. 'But they just said they're Professors. They're going to teach at Hogwarts.'

'Yeah, I know. They gave different names when they visited as well, but I could have sworn it was them.'

'Well what did they do when they visited?' Hermione questioned, face riddled with worry.

'They just asked a load of weird questions - something about Sulphurous smells and people with black eyes. It was really strange.' Harry answered. 'And then Dudley mentioned Padfoot, the bloody idiot. I don't think they got it, though.'

'They'd better not have.' Said Ron darkly. 'If you ask me, these guys are trouble. They were weird back them as well. And that Sam guy-'

'We don't know if Sam is involved.' Hermione jumped it. 'And besides, it could be nothing! We'll just have to watch out. Remember, if they're going to be Professors, Dumbledore will have hired them personally. He'd know if something was up, wouldn't he?'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah, you're right. We'll just have to trust Dumbledore.'

Ron shrugged. 'I tell you what though, they're not right. There's something about those guys that's totally moronic.'

 **FIVE HOURS LATER**

'Now I think the peg just goes here-'

Dean lifted the hammer, and swung - and missed.

'OW! Jesus, that hurts.' Dean threw down the hammer and cradled his injured hand. In the foreground, Sam rolled his eyes and looked at his brother, eyebrows raised.

'Hey,' Said Dean indignantly. 'What you looking at me like that for. It was the hammer's fault, he started it.'

'Oh come on, Dean, a Muggle tent? Really? We're gonna stick out like a sore thumb here!'

'Well I'm sorry, Princess, is a human tent not good enough for you? I'll have you know I scavenged this from a highly respectable skip in New Jersey.'

Sam rolled his eyes again. 'For a start, Dean, you don't even know how to put it up. Secondly, wizarding tents don't just assemble themselves - look, over there, where that woman with the red jacket's coming out.' Dean turned his head to follow Sam's finger. A row across, tent flaps opened an a luxurious inside was revealed, a flat within a canvas. Sam gave Dean his best wise ass look as his brother turned back round. 'Now you see what I mean.'

'God, you wizards, you have everything handed to you on a plate.' Dean spat, moving to wrestle with another part of the canvas. 'At least humans have some things they can't avoid doing. You, on the other hand, get everything done for you, just by using magic. Well I'm not gonna take that shortcut, Sammy; I'm gonna damn well get this tent up, using only my sweat and blood.' Dean moved determinedly to retrieve the peg and, shoving it in the ground, called over to Cas.

'Hey Cas, what the hell are you doing? Get your angelic ass over here and gimme me a hand!'

Castiel turned slowly and approached the two Winchesters. 'I'm beginning to question why we gave these creatures fire.' He said, reaching Dean's side. Dean followed his gaze to see a middle-aged wizard and what looked to be his wife attempting to light a fire using matches. Their attempts were pitiful - for a start, the wizard was striking the wrong end against the box. 'I've never seen mankind more useless.'

'This isn't mankind, Cas.' Dean answered. 'These are wizarding kind. And they are idiots.' He turned back to the peg and hammer. 'Now give me a hand with getting this damn tent up.'

It was late in the day; lunch having passed (Dean had managed to find a burger van amidst the crowd of mobile eateries near the stadium), and the match fast approaching. Sam was actually excited - he had long loved Quidditch, although he'd never had a chance to play it properly, and was looking forward to seeing it played professionally. Dean, on the other hand, was less than thrilled at the idea of the match, and Castiel had no idea what the word meant.

'We won't be able to sleep in this, Dean.' Sam sighed as Cas held the peg with perplexity and Dean began to hammer it violently into the ground.

Dean looked up, shrugging. 'Fine by me. I'll just crash in the Impala.'

'I don't sleep.' Cas added.

Sam facepalmed, dropping the hammer and standing to survey the stadium, distant in the foreground. A second later, he jumped as a voice called across the tents.

'Hey, Wise Arse!' Sam turned to see the Weasley Twins approaching, followed by the rest of their group. The spoke in unison, before George (was it George?) added; 'The Game's gonna start soon!'

' 'Wise Ass'?' Dean questioned, looking to Sam. 'Man, finally someone else noticed.'

'Are you boy coming with us, then?' Mr Weasley asked as the group drew up alongside the pitch. He smiled broadly at Sam. 'I believe your seats are next to ours.'

'Oh, yeah, sure.' Sam put down the hammer and reached to grab his jacket. 'Dean, Cas, come on.'

Dean sighed and abandoned the hammer, beckoning Castiel to follow him, and the three men joined the group; Sam falling with Mr Weasley, Dean walking next to the Weasley Twins and Castiel bringing up the rear with Harry, Ron and Hermione, who all proceeded to send him suspicious glances throughout the journey.

They wound their way up through the camp, where salesmen were appearing everywhere selling merchandise for both teams, so that everything soon became a cloud of red and green. Dean eyed the stands distastefully as they passed, but Sam watched in fascination at the charms used to enchant the glittering shamrocks and Bulgarian scarves, enchanted by the atmosphere; following their scattered group through the cloud as the Weasleys and Hermione and Harry purchased items. They came to one stand and Ron paused to buy a shamrock hat and rosette, and a model figure of Viktor Krumm that strutted up and down his hand.

'Man, I can't wait to see him play.' Sam commented, grinning. 'He's supposedly the best seeker in the world. It'll be so awesome to see him in action.'

Ron turned to him eagerly, eyes alight. 'He is the best seeker in the world.' He cried. 'Krumm's absolutely amazing - no one can beat him! You a fan then? These guys won't stop being dicks about it, but I think-'

'Sounds like true love, Ron.' Called Fred airily, floating past.

'Working up the courage to tell him now you feel, Sam?' Asked George, following his twin and blowing a kiss towards Ron.

'Shut up, you gits!' Ron called angrily, stuffing the figure of Krumm into his pocket. Sam restrained a smile and moved to examine the shamrock hats, but the peace didn't last for long. A second later, Dean was at his side.

'Lord, you aren't thinking of buying one of these things are you?' He picked up one of the hats with disdain, inspected the thing, and then promptly dropped it back onto the stand. 'Or have you always secretly wanted to sparkle like a unicorn? Sammy, you-'

Sam paused in rolling his eyes and looked at his brother. 'Dean?' He turned to see Dean's face riddled with shock, eyes focused on something far away. 'Dean, what's wrong?'

'Sam.' Dean said, voice low and tense. 'Is that who I think it is?'

Sam turned to follow Dean's gaze, and caught sight of a blonde wizard across the stands who appeared to be attempting to place a bet with one of the salesmen. His back was turned to Sam, but when the figure finally shifted the other way again, Sam's face filled with the same expression of disbelief Dean was wearing.

'Oh my god.' He whispered. 'Gabriel.'

In the distance, the man smirked and, unseen by anyone, clicked his fingers and produced a shamrock hat he proceeded to jam on his head. There was no doubting it - smug expression; the gambling; that terrible haircut. It was Gabriel all right. He passed another stand, swaggering through the stalls and acquiring a bulgarian scarf as he went.

'Why the hell is that son of a bitch here.' Dean growled, anger flooding onto his face.

'For the same reason he's always anywhere; to screw people over.' Sam answered grimly, glaring at the unaware figure. 'God, this can't be good.'

'What's even worse is that he's coming over here. Look.' Dean lowered his voice and Sam watched as the angel approached Mr Weasley, who was further away, and began to shout jovially in an English accent. Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Great. He had Mr Weasley fooled.

'Not long till the game ey, Arthur?' Gabriel was saying as Sam and Dean left the shamrock hat table and approached the pair. His face was friendly and idiotic in a cheery sort of way. He was really going for it with this act.

'Oh yes, how long have we got, Ludo?'

'About twenty minutes, I expect - you'd better get up there! Be sure to watch your boys when they lose their money to me, ey?'

Mr Weasley laughed hesitantly, then caught sight of Sam and Dean lurking in the corner. 'Oh Dean, Sam, this is Ludo Bagman; Head of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic. Ludo, these two are Sam and Dean Winchester; Americans over to study and teach at Hogwarts.'

'Pleased to meet you.' Said 'Ludo Bagman' jovially, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked to Sam and Dean. The two wizards simply raised their eyebrows, and a second later, there was a yell from across the stalls.

'Oh, coming Ginny!' Mr Weasley called, then turned back to them. 'We'd best be off soon - are you coming, boys?'

'One moment, Arthur.' Answered Sam. "We just want to ask Mr Bagman a few questions first."

"Oh, okay." The wizard replied. Ginny called again, and he turned to go. "See you in a bit!"

"Bye!" Sam called, and the three remaining men watched Mr Weasley dash away, just out of earshot, before they turned quickly back to each other.

'Ludo?' Dean scoffed. 'Really? Couldn't come up with a prettier name?'

Gabriel smirked, unscathed. 'Long time no speak, amigos.'

'Why are you here, Gabriel.' Questioned Sam, voice threatening. 'You shouldn't be mucking around in the wizarding world, you know what the rules are.'

'Man, I missed the sound of your silence.' Gabriel sighed, then clicked his fingers, and Sam's next words were cut short, whilst Dean reached a hand up to his throat in alarm. 'I'm just here for the fun, pals.' He clicked his fingers again, and Sam let out a gargle, his and Dean's voices returned. 'Oh, and the women. Turns out these kind of witches are a foxy bunch.'

'Yeah, right.' Dean answered, voice laced with anger. 'Go back to the human world, Gabriel. I ain't no fan of wizarding kind but the last thing they need at the moment is you messing with their heads.'

Gabriel simply continued smiling. 'Well,' He replied. 'That's for them to decide, isn't it.' The next moment, a voice blared out on loudspeakers across the ground, calling the crowd to attention - the stadium was opening. 'Oh look, the match is starting. Gotta go.' Gabriel grinned at them. 'Until next time, Winchesters.' With another click of fingers, he was gone.

Sam sighed and bowed his head, and Dean gritted his teeth. 'Well,' Dean murmured. 'We sure ain't seen the last of him.'

* * *

 **A/N:**

"Well," *looks at screen* "I guess I'm meant to be thanking…" *scrolls down*

"Here we are, Souless Robot for a review." *smirks* "Souless… Robot…"

*turns to Sam* "Dude, should we be hunting this thing?"

"Shut up and thank the person already. Jerk."

"Bitch. Anyways, thanks Souless...Robot." *turns back to the screen*

"Okay, so, we've got, NinjaViolinist to thank for some more kind words, so thank you. "Hey Sam, which do you think would win in a fight, Ninjas or Robots?"

"Ninjas, obviously." *Sam turns to the screen* "And lastly thank you... 19vanelKC?"

"No no, Sam it's Vanelk C. Come on dude, I thought you were the one who used logic."

"Okay then, what the hell is a Vanelk?"

"It's an elk that's been run over by a van."

"Really?"

"That's all I got. Give me a break, I haven't had any breakfast yet. Speaking of which, where's that pie?"


	8. Chapter Seven: Green Snakey Skull Thing

**Chapter Six: Green Snakey Skull Thing**

* * *

'Gabriel?' Castiel's eyes were wide with surprise. 'You're... sure it was him?'

'We're frickin' sure alright. Son of a bitch decided to come over and say hi.' Dean replied, gritting his teeth. They were talking in lowered voices,stood in the queue for the stadium, waiting to gain access to the stands. The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione were just behind them, with the exception of Mr Weasley, who was pushing forward in front, waving his tickets eagerly.

"Let's just hope he isn't involved in what we're investigating.' Sam said, raising his eyebrows. "Although I doubt we can count on it."

'Gabriel does enjoy being around humanity, but I can't understand why he'd be here.' Castiel answered, creasing his brow.

From behind, Ron, Harry and Hermione overheard snippets of the conversation, Ron turning to Harry in confusion and muttering: 'What the hell are they on about?'

'I have absolutely no idea.' Answered Harry, looking to Dean and squinting his eyes. Yes, it was definitely the guy who had called at his house, asking all those weird questions. And the man calling himself Castiel, he had been there, too - Harry could have sworn he'd said something about interrogating Mrs. Figg's cat - he had been just as strange as he was at the moment. What a curious lot of people, as Hermione had commented earlier. Surely not all Americans were like this?

"Come on lads, ladies, we're in!" Called Mr Weasley all of a sudden, beckoning excitedly for the group to hurry up. "The game's going to begin shortly and we still have to get to our seats!"

"Where are they, Mr Weasley?" Asked Hermione politely as they began to climb the twisting stairs upwards. However, it appeared he didn't hear her, and instead they continued clambering upwards. Red and Green flashed by, the steps became steeper, the officials lingering on the field grew smaller and smaller, and still they kept going.

"Blimey Dad, how far up are we?" Panted Ron as they reached another platform before more stairs, and stopped to catch their breath. Before Mr Weasley could reply, however, an all too familiar voice (for the likes of Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys), called from a platform below;

"Well put it this way," Sneered Lucius Malfoy, his face contorted with snotty arrogance. "If it rains - you'll be the first to know."

The group said nothing, but there was an all around gritting of teeth and glaring at Malfoy and his son. A second later, Draco added;

"Father and I are in the minister's box," He boasted from beside his father, face obnoxious and taunting . "By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself!"

"Now, now, Draco, don't boast." Lucius Malfoy said to his son, before turning to Mr Weasley and smirking. "There's no need with these people."

Harry's blood began to boil as he watched both Malfoys sneer at them, wishing heartily he could throw Draco and his father over the rail and into the stadium below. Malfoy opened his mouth to taunt them once more, but Harry had had enough. Beside him, Hermione turned away and the group moved to go - that is, until a voice spoke from behind, slicing the air and stopping them in their tracks.

"I think you should listen to your Dad, Goldilocks" Dean Winchester called, as Draco Malfoy moved to speak again. "Parental advice can come in real handy."

Draco looked up at him, his eyes flickering for a moment in uncertainty, but Lucius Malfoy did not pause. Steely-eyed, he turned to Mr Weasley, then to Dean as if he were no more than an annoying fly. "Well, well, well. Befriending Americans are we now, Weasley? Who have we here?"

Dean looked at him him, unfazed. "My name's Dean Winchester." He answered. "And you must be McDickwad."

Positively snakelike, Lucius Malfoy looked from Dean to Mr Weasley. "Funny." He smirked. "I can't understand a word this one's saying."

"Man, I do apologise for not speaking fluent asshole." Dean replied, his voice loud and clear. "Now you'd better be getting along to the 'Minister's Box' - I hear Gimli's getting impatient, Legolas."

Lucius Malfoy's eyes flashed angrily, filled with confusion, and the group turned away; Ron raising his eyebrows, The Weasley twins grinning at Dean, Hermione smiling slightly, and Sam face palming. However, Mr Malfoy wasn't quite done yet. As they turned to go, he took a step forward and trapped Harry's foot with his cane, pulling him back.

"Enjoy yourself, Potter." His voice was deadly cold, laced with an underlying threat. "While you can."

With a sharp flick of his cane, Lucius Malfoy released Harry and freed him moved to walk on before he himself turned to walk away - but not before glancing at Dean again, eyes suspicious and spiteful. Dean saw him, raised his hand, and waved, a mock friendly smile on his face, then moved to follow the rest of the group resuming their journey up the stairs

"Jeez," Dean commented, walking in line with the Weasleys and Harry and Hermione. He looked to the group. "Who was that douchebag?"

"Lucius bloody Malfoy." Answered Ron with contempt. "Works in the Ministry of Magic, where our Dad is. Not in the same department, though, he's much higher up."

"He's filthy rich," Began Fred.

"And thinks he's the king of England." Added George.

"And, as you correctly stated, an arsehole." Fred began the sentence, and George chimed in on the last two words for effect. Dean looked at them and scoffed in amusement. They really had the sassy twin act perfected, these two.

"The Malfoys are Purebloods." Said Hermione helpfully, looking across at Dean. Dean looked at her blankly, and she hastily continued in her automatically know-it-all tone. "Oh, well - they're old, rich wizarding families whose ancestry is completely free of Muggle marriages and blood, so they are purely magical.

Dean screwed up his face. "Right."

They turned a corner and the group shifted so that Dean fell back to walk beside his brother. Not noticing the look on Sam's face, Dean leant in and said in a low voice:

"Well, you'll be proud of me, Sammy." He declared. "I've been bonding with the kids and learning about the wizarding world. Didn't realise supremacy existed here as well."

Sam, however ignored his brother's criticising comment. Instead, he turned to Dean earnestly, eyes alight. "Dean, that Malfoy guy - Bobby and I investigated him when we were putting together the case." Dean perked up at this, and looked to his brother with renewed interest. "He used to be a Death Eater - one of the closest advisors to You-Know-Who himself. He is literally at the centre of a whole network of Slytherin Purebloods who joined You-Know-Who's cause."

"Wait, what?" Dean questioned in confusion. "You're telling me Lord Smorgasbord's right-hand man is skippin' freely through the wizard world and working in the Government after all that guy did? Shouldn't they like, I dunno, arrest him?"

"He was arrested when You-Know-Who fell." Answered Sam. "But he was one of the Death Eaters to plead not guilty because they were allegedly being made to do things under the Imperius Curse - a spell that allows the caster to control another witch of wizard's mind."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right, they were being controlled. The Government frickin believed that? Man, these wizards are even stupider than I thought."

Sam sighed. "Malfoy had friends in high places, a wife and young son - he managed to make himself look innocent. In the eyes of most people, he's entirely blameless for what he did."

"Yeah because just looking at that guy gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling inside." Dean answer, shaking his head, and then looked up at Sam. "So you think he'd run back to Lord Smorgasbord if the dude's back in town?"

Sam nodded. "No doubt about it. Bobby and I looked at the case reports, it's clear the guy was one of You-Know-Who's most loyal supporters. We'll have to watch out for him, maybe he'll give something away." Sam raised his eyebrows, glancing towards Harry far in front of them. "To be honest, I think he just did."

"What?" Questioned Dean, but Sam noticed they were had finally reach the stand where their seats were, and promptly shushed him.

"Ssh, we're here." Sam looked around. "Where's Cas?"

Castiel, it appeared, was deep in conversation with Mr Weasley - or rather, Cas was staring him unresponsively and giving single-syllabled answers in a gravelly monotone whilst Mr Weasley talked most animatedly, watching the Angel intently for reactions. Sam creased his brow - there was something strange about Mr Weasley's attitude.

"Cas!" Dean called, striding forward to take a seat on the other side of where the Weasleys were sat. "Over here!"

Castiel looked up and slowly turned away from Mr Weasley to approach the two Winchesters. He sat down next to Dean, and Sam looked at him in curiosity. "What was Weasely talking to you about? Looked like a pretty intense conversation."

Castiel creased his brow. "He was asking me who invented the rubber duck."

Dean and Sam raised their eyebrows. "Oh." Answered Sam. "Well that's… interesting."

"It isn't really." Castiel answered, expression blank. "Balthazar was 'having a bad day'." He sighed. "I told him not to mess around with isoprene polymers."

Neither Dean or Sam had any time to retort to this, as, a second later, the Weasley twins stood up further along the row and called;

"Oi, any of you want a pair of Omnioculars?" Asked Fred.

"Turns out Harry bought one pair too many." Followed George.

"Thought you might want one?" Fred looked from Sam to Dean as George waved an item, that looked like a pair of mini binoculars, both twins grinning.

"Oh yeah, that'd be great," Exclaimed Sam, and George chucked the Omnioculars to him. Sam caught them with a grateful smile. "Thanks guys!"

"Our pleasure." They replied in unison, and then sat down. Sam, still grinning, moved to bring the omniculars up to his eyes, but suddenly found Dean wrenching them out of his hands.

"Gimme those." Dean snapped, putting them over his eyes and looking onto the crowd. Sam sighed and leaned back, defeated. "Now what have we here… oh - score! Man that is hot! Whew!" Sam rolled his eyes as Dean grinned, Omniculars still over his face. "Okay I officially love these! God, you gotta give it to the wizarding world, they sure have some fun inventions. Hey Sam, Sammy, here - look."

As suddenly as they had been ripped from his grasp, Sam found the omniculars being thrust over his eyes and Dean dragging him sideways to point them in the right direction. The image Sam was greeted with a second later was a pair of highly attractive witches snogging next to a group of ancient wizards, who appeared

to be extremely uncomfortable.

Sam pushed the omniculars away from his face and turned to Dean, who was grinning like an excited kid. "What the hell, Dean? These are meant for watching sport, not being a skeezy creep." Sam sighed, shaking his head, and turned away. Dean, in turn, rolled his eyes and made a face at Sam before standing up on the bench and turning to his right to address the Weasleys.

"Hey guys, have you see the hot-"

In a quick slice of movement, Sam reached his arm upwards, caught hold of Dean's collar and hauled him backwards. Dean looked affronted, but didn't have time to say anything. Trumpets began to sound, and a murmur of excitement rippled through the stadium. From the top box, a voice called out, jovial and cheery;

'"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

There was a thunderous applause from the crowd, but there were a few who didn't clap. Instantly recognising the voice despite the clear British accent, Castiel turned to the Winchesters with wide eyes. 'That's Gabriel.'

'Yup.' Sam answered. 'Apparently he's 'Ludo Bagman, Head of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic, Former Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps and Official Umpire for this Match'.'

Castiel nodded somberly as he looked at Sam and Dean. 'You're right, this is unsettling.'

Dean raised his eyebrows. 'What about Gabriel isn't?'

"And now, without further ado," Gabriel's voice continued to boom throughout the stadium. "Allow me the pleasure of introducing… the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

There was instant roaring from the right side of the stands that was a sea of red - the Bulgarian supporters. Dean leant forward - this might be England, but he knew nothing about Bulgaria. Maybe, just maybe, they believed in the magic of foxy Cheerleaders?

"I wonder what they've brought," He heard Mr. Weasley say. Turning to look along the row, he saw that the wizard was leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" Mr Weasley suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"

Dean's brow creased with confusion, and turned to look into the stadium. Next to him, Sam was busy stuffing his fingers into his ears. Faintly, Dean heard the Potter kid question; "What are veel -?"

But both Harry and Dean's confusion was put to rest a second later, however, as hundreds of Veela began to pour onto the pitch. And then, Dean understood. Forget cheerleaders; Veela were…

'Hot…' Dean whispered - because the Veela were now dancing, and his mind had gone strangely blank. If they weren't so smokin he might have wanted to stake one through the heart. He began to yell for no particular reason - all he knew is that the Veela must not stop dancing. If they stopped, the world would end, the apocalypse would come, Jefferson Starship would make a comeback…

Along the row of seats, Harry and Weasley boys were fairing no better. As Ginny and Hermione stared at them, Harry found himself transfixed on the dancing Veela, roaring his support for Bulgaria despite the shamrock pinned to his chest. They were so impossibly, unearthly beautiful - no one could be that beautiful, and yet they were; the way their skin shone moon-bright, their silvery hair fanned out around them, the way their moved; like water graceful and entrancing. He was gripped with the desire to do something impressive, something to grab their attention. Leaping off the wall of the box suddenly seemed a good idea…

Slowly, Harry crept forward, eyes alight and fixed on the Veela, and made to scale the wall, closely followed by Ron, who had previously been shredding his Shamrock hat to pieces in lovestruck anguish. Dean Winchester, however, was one step ahead of them.

God, he wanted to sleep with one of them. Scratch that; he wanted to sleep with all of them. Man, they were a tease, dancing all the way down there, just so he had to leap out into the stadium below to reach them..

"Hi…" He mumbled, barely audible, talking to an imaginary Veela in front of him. He put on a smoulder. "My namessss Dean, Dean Winchester.." He held out his hand, stumbling forward and grinning like a horny teenager. "And I am very pleased to meet you... heheheheh…"

Sam, meanwhile, was busy holding his fingers in his ears and desperately trying not to look at the Veela. He had read about them before; what their true form was, what they did to men - Dean would be more affected than himself, but no man was completely safe from the Veela's spe- oh god. Sam's face dawned in realisation. Dean.

Sam looked up, trying desperately not to look at the Veela and instead focusing on his brother; who was busy balancing precariously on the wall of the box and shouting: "I'M THE KING OF THE WORLD! WOOOOOOOOOOO!" Unlike Harry and the Weasleys, Dean looked as if he were actually going to jump - and Sam knew that he would. This was Dean he was talking about.

Sam looked wildly around, and his eyes came to rest on Castiel, who was still seated, looking entirely unaffected at the whole situation. "CAS!" Sam yelled. The Angel turned his head slowly to look at Sam. Sam nodded wildly to Dean. "DO SOMETHING?"

Castiel turned to look at Dean, who had now taken his shirt off and started whipping it around and yelling. "YOU WANT SOME? YOU WANT SOME? WELL I GOT SOME, BABY!" Castiel sighed, walked forward, and pulled Dean to the ground. Dazed, Dean had no time to react before Cas reached up his hand and touched Dean's forehead.

"Now look at them." Castiel said to his friend, eyes dark. Dean stared at him faintly, desires for the Veela still filling his head, and turned to look out onto the stadium. But instead of the beautiful women, he was greeted by the image of two dozen harpies dancing across the stadium. Hooked beaks, black skin, glowing red eyes… it appeared that Dean's original instinct to stake them through the heart had been correct.

Dean turned to Castiel, mouth open in horror. "What - what've you done to them? Bring back the hot chicks, Cas, you can't crush my dreams like this!"

Castiel looked at him soberly. "This is their true form." The Veela had begun to drift off the pitch, angry yells filling the stadiums. "Their beauty is an illusion."

"Well dammit, Cas, maybe I like illusions!" Dean answered grouchily. He looked back at the Veela and grimaced. A moment later, Sam appeared next to him, safe now that the Veela disappeared to a further corner of the pitch.

"Well you know what they say; never judge a book by its cover." He said smugly.

Dean looked at him. "Dude, could you sound any more like an old lady?"

Down the row of seats, Harry, Ron and the Weasley twins sat blinking, attempting to recover from the Veela's performance. Ron was still shredding his Shamrock hat between his fingers, and Mr Weasley, smiling in amusement, leant forward and rescue the poor thing.

"You'll be wanting that," he said, "once Ireland have had their say."

"Huh?" Ron questioned, still staring openmouthed at the veela.

Hermione made a loud tutting noise, and reached up to pull Harry back into his seat. "Honestly!" She exclaimed disapprovingly. Sam, sitting back down in his seat next to her, restrained a smile.

"And now!" Gabriel's voice roared suddenly through the pitch, making a still-dazed Dean jump. "Kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

A green-and-gold comet rushed into the pitch, did a lap of it, and then split into two smaller comets. A second later, fireworks were going off and a large, sunshiny rainbows had spread across the pitch. And then, the mascots came -and Dean's face settled into an expression of ultimate contempt.

"You gotta be frickin' kidding me."

* * *

 **AFTER THE MATCH**

* * *

"So, how is the betrayer?"

"Hey, who you calling a betrayer?"

"You switched teams, Dean. To the winning side."

"And? Not like I even understand how the game works."

"We were meant to be supporting the Irish."

"They had Leprechauns, Dude! LEPRECHAUNS. There ain't no way I am supporting a team that makes me watch those things dance!"

Sam and Dean were stood in the Weasley's tent, having been invited to the celebratory after party of Ireland winning. Everyone was in high spirits; Sam smiling through this conversation with Dean, Dean actually good-natured,it looked although he was warming towards some of the wizarding world. Ginny and Hermione were over in one corner quizzing Castiel on the American Wizarding World, although there was no need to worry because Ginny was leading the conversation and appeared to think giving bizarre answers to things was Castiel's sense of humour; Fred and George had disappeared out of the tent briefly in search of some form of contraband, unbeknownst to Mr Weasley; who was in the corner chatting animatedly to Harry whilst Ron watched in amazement at the conversation that was passing between Castiel and Ginny.

"So, where are you from in America?"

"I'm not from America."

"Oh? So - where were you born?"

"I wasn't strictly born. Created would be the correct term."

"Ohhh, right; created. Gotcha..."

This exchange reached the Winchesters; Sam shook his head, facepalming, whilst Dean raised his eyebrows humorously, opening his mouth to stop Castiel from making any further comments. He was cut short, however, by the calls of two very tipsy Weasley twins yelling across the tent at them:

"Oi, Winchester! Come show us your moves! We wanna know how you took Wise Arse down earlier!"

Dean exchanged glances with Sam, who chuckled at Dean's full-of-himself expression as he turned to walk over to the Weasley brothers. Sam took a sip of firewhiskey and began to watch the scene in amusement - Dean had assumed a defensive position and was now beckoning the twins to 'come at him'. This was not going to end well.

There was a movement beside him, and he turned to see Hermione helping herself to a glass of butterbeer on the table two feet away. And second later, she looked up and Sam quickly smiled at her. Now was as good a time as any to see if he could get any information from her, and since she appeared to be one of Harry's best friends, she could be useful.

"Hey."

"Oh, Hello." She said politely, looking up.

Sam smiled again. "Enjoy the game?"

"Actually, I did." She answered, grinning. "I don't usually find Quidditch very exhilarating but, well - who couldn't say that wasn't exciting."

Sam grinned warmly in agreement. "Man, yeah, it was amazing. I'm so glad we came."

There was another slight pause, before Sam continued hastily;

"And you know it's great to meet some English wizards like you guys as well; get a feel for the British Wizarding World ."

Hermione laughed slightly. "Well you're hardly getting a look at the most impressive specimens here, unfortunately." She glanced over at Ron, who was busy teasing Ginny mercilessly - who, in turn, was throwing fierce punches in his direction.

Sam chuckled, raising his eyebrows. "Well I can't say the US is represented any better in our group." His eyes turned to Dean, who was trying to teach the Weasley twins how to get out of a headlock; restraining Fred with some effort whilst the twin attempted to stamp on his feet. Sam shook his head and turned back to Hermione "So, uh - where are you from in England?"

"Oh, from a place called Hampstead. In London." She replied with a quick smile. "But to be honest so much of my time is spent at Hogwarts that it feels more like home to me now." She looked at him. "What about you? Where is home for you and your brother?"

Sam's face numbed slightly at this, his smile wavering slightly. The only home he'd ever had was that first one. Lawrence, Kansas. Mum, Dad, Dean and him. Sam didn't even remember it, but, in the back of his mind, there was a feeling… a feeling of being utterly safe and happy, long ago. He'd always guessed it had come from that time. Maybe he'd just imagined it, but he hadn't felt it anyplace after that. There was never another home after Kansas.

"I can't say I ever had a particular home." Sam recovered himself, and smiled quickly after the briefest of pauses. "We've been on the move since I was born."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Gosh, I couldn't imagine that." She laughed. "My home life seems so ordinary in comparison."

"Having a ordinary life isn't necessarily a bad thing." Sam found himself saying reflectively, Hermione turning to look at him curiously. He recovered and, coughing hastily, took the opportunity to steer the conversation in the desired direction. "And well, your one life might be ordinary but your school life sounds eventful. Sounds like there have been quite a few things going on there recently."

Hermione paused slightly, then laughed, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, well, yes - life at Hogwarts is never dull." There was something different in her eyes when she looked back at Sam, though - something very aware and focused. "But I'm sure you get up to all sorts of things travelling - what happens at Hogwarts would be very mundane to you. What was it you said you father did?"

"He was an Auror." Replied Sam shortly. He had already gaged from her reaction that Bobby was right in his instincts - something had been going on at Hogwarts, and it seemed Hermione knew about it.

"Gosh, really?" Hermione questioned in a kind of eager fascination. "And your cousin, did he grow up with you?"

"No, he, uh, lived with his family elsewhere." Answered Sam, looking at her. "So what's life like at Hogwarts? I can't wait to get there."

Hermione paused slightly and met his gaze as if realising something. There was something curious in her eyes. "Well, Hogwarts is wonderful, of course." She answered, smiling politely. "You certainly choose the right school to transfer to. You'll love it there."

"Oh yeah, my brother and I went for Hogwarts straight away." Sam answered." We did hear some strange rumours about things happening there the past couple of years though. something about students being petrified - a werewolf professor?" Sam said, watching closely. He laughed, keeping up the facade. "Sounds promising for adventure."

Hermione paused falteringly, then smiled. "Indeed."

Sam looked at her innocently. "So - did any of that happen?"

"Oh no." Hermione laughed incredulously with no confidence. "Nothing like that goes on at Hogwarts."

Sam laughed, raising his eyebrows. "Well, that's good to know."

Hermione smiles, but was back onto him in a second. "So what brings you and your relations over?"

"Oh well, I guess we all just fancied a change of air. Decided to do something together." Sam answered shortly.

"Ah right. So where did you go to school before?"

"Oh, Ilvermony, of course."

"Oh really? It sounds like an amazing place. Which house were you in?"

"Uh, Horned Serpent."

"And your brother and cousin went there too? I suppose in the '80s or something?"

"Well yeah, I mean-"

They were suddenly interrupted by the Weasley twins rushing between them; jigging wildly and screeching a mock-Irish tune. Their conversation broken, Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement and hurried over to Ron and Harry. Sam watched her go with intrigue, then turned to survey the rest of the room. It looked like Dean was join in as well, whipping an Irish flag high above his head, a bottle of fire whisky in the other hand, whilst Ginny appeared to be painting a perplexed Castiel's fingernails in the Irish colours.

Sam, however, only took this in briefly. He had other things on his mind - the conversation with Hermione had certainly revealed a few things. It had taken him a minute to work out what she was doing, and he was a veteran in the line of getting information out of people without them knowing. Whilst he'd been trying to get information out of her - she'd shared the same aim. Yes, Hermione Granger had realised something was up; which meant, most likely, her friends Ron and Harry did too. After all, Dean and Cas had hardly been inconspicuous about their visit to Potter or their complete lack of knowledge regarding the wizarding world, and all three of the, probably smelt a rat. She'd gone about interrogating him sneakily, though. Sam had to give it to her; she was smart.

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by more commotion - this time, it was Ronald Weasley; baited by his cousin and infused with the excitement of the evening. He was stood on a chair, magnificently proclaiming his love for the Bulgarian seeker and becoming a sitting target for his quick-witted brothers.

"There's no one like Krumm!"

"Oh no?" Questioned George, still dancing around wildly.

"He's like a bird, the way he rides the wind."

The Weasley twins began a caveman-like chanting of "Krumm, Krumm, Krumm," that everyone soon joined in on.

"He's more than an athlete," Ron continued passionately as Fred threw an Irish flag over him. Ron shook it off impatiently. "He's an artist!"

"Think you're in love, Ron?" Questioned Ginny airily. She had now finished painting Cas's fingernails and jumped up to join the fun.

Ron scowled at her. "Shut up."

"Viktor I love you," Fred sang, jumping out from behind him.

"Viktor I do!" Continued George, appearing the other side of Ron.

"When we're apart my heart beats only for you!" Everybody sang (including Dean, whose input was painfully tone-deaf).

As the singing stopped, Fred turned to face the tent door, noticing the increasing noise outside. "Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on." He commented.

All of a sudden, Mr Weasley, who had been stood by the door, aside from the fray, ran in and grabbed Fred. "Stop! Stop it!" He beat away the flags in George's hands and turned to them ominously. "It's not the Irish."

All of them heard it then. The screams, the yells, the explosions. The sound of panic, chaos and, ultimately, danger.

"We've got to get out of here, now!" Mr Weasley shouted, panic rising in his voice. As everybody turned to each other wildly and raced towards the door, Sam and Dean exchanged glances. They had switched into a different mode; a mode in which everyone had to be accounted for, everyone had to be kept safe, and everyone needed to be organised. Mr Weasley also seemed to share this state of mind - and not without reason. Outside the tent it was total chaos; fires blazing everywhere as tents were set on fire, screams echoing through the camp. Distantly, someone screeched: "Get out, it's the Death Eaters!" Once they were outside, he surveyed the chaos for a split second and then yelled:

"Get back to the portkey everyone and stick together!" He yelled, then turned to the twins: "Fred, George; Ginny is your responsibility!"

"Sam, take these three out of here!" Dean also took charge, gesturing to Ron, Hermione and Harry. "Cas, come with me!"

But Castiel had disappeared, and as Sam began to run, beckoning Harry, Ron and Hermione to follow, Dean was separated from them by a crowd of stampeding people. Sam was disorientated by the same crowd a few paces ahead, and battled his way to Ron and Hermione in panic.

"Where's Harry?!" He yelled as he reached them, looking around frantically for the kid.

Ron looked around in realisation. "I don't know." He answered, voice laced in panic. "HARRY!"

Sam searched the crowd, a head above most of the people but still unable to see Harry - or Dean and Cas, for that matter. It was completely insane. "HARRY?!" He joined in the yelling. "DEAN!"

All three of them were calling across the haze, but a second later, Sam saw the shadows of their attacks approaching. There was no time to search for the missing party - the three of them had to get out of there now. Swallowing, he turned to grab Ron's arm, gesturing to the pair. "Come on!" Sam yelled to them. "They aren't here! We have to go, now!"

Faces riddled with worry and uncertainty, Ron and Hermione regretfully turned away and followed him, running with the crowd in no particular direction. Sam glance over his shoulder as they raced away from the danger, and prayed that Dean and Cas could look after themselves with wizarding magic factored into the equation.

Dean was also alone in the crowd - he'd lost both Cas and Mr Weasley in the chaos and could hear the attackers fast approaching. Gritting his teeth, Dean watched as the last scurrying witches and wizards ran past him, and then darted to his left to hide behind a nearby tent. He didn't exactly have a plan - he was still working on it - but he might as well get a look at these sons of bitches and go from there. Integrating themselves with Potter and his associates had been the reason for coming to the match, but if Dean could get anything out of this attack, it'd be an upside.

Dean held his breath, the noise of the crowd now far away, and heard the heavy footsteps of the attackers approaching. Hesitantly, he poked his head out from behind the tent and saw them passing; cloaked in black robes and wearing sinister metals masks that shone in the light of the flaming tents around them. Dean rolled his eyes. Great, they had masks. No identifying them, then. These boys were serious.

He crouched behind the tent until they'd passed, then reached reluctantly into the pocket of his jacket for the wand Sam had forced him to carry. Surveying it with distaste, Dean stood up and carefully crept onto the path, the figures marching ahead of him. They had started going off in all directions and, with a sigh, Dean withdrew into the tent he'd been hiding behind to avoid the ravaging Dead in the Dining Room participants.

Meanwhile, Castiel found himself swept up in a throng of Bulgarians. More specifically, the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team. They were all vaulting onto brooms next to their maroon tents, and as Castiel stood there in confusion, one of them noticed him.

"You take?" The woman held out a broom to the dazed angel and wildly jabbed hier finger upwards. "Ve need spy - fly? - ve need fly up!"

Castiel looked slowly from the broom to the Quidditch player. "Sŭzhalyavam ... Ne znam kakvo da pravya s tazi ... letyashta chetka."

The woman stared at him, amazed. Castiel didn't hear what she said next however, as he was knocked back by another terrified wizard running for his life. Everything went black for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, the Quidditch Player and her broom were gone.

Castiel watched the desolation happening around him, searching the crowd for Sam and Dean. Finding neither of them, he sighed, closed his eyes and attempted to teleport. It was worth a try.

A second later, there was a loud rush of air and the sound of material against air. Castiel opened his eyes to feel something heavy on his back and looked left and right. Two feathering objects extended either side of him; ebony in plumage and extending twelve foot either side. Oh. His wings were visible. He'd forgotten what this wizarding magic did to him.

Castiel looked upwards, then to take in the chaos erupting in the wake of the attackers. There was nothing else for it - he'd have to attempt flying. For one, he had to get out of there and put the wings back in the ethereal dimension.

Frowning, and thanking his father there were no wizards around him at this moment, he beat his wings once, and flew into the ether. The dimension that was familiar to him, that he flew within every time he teleported, suddenly shook, and he found himself veering off his flight, and appearing in the center of some.. wizard tent? Sighing at yet another affection to his powers from being around this, modern magic, Castiel gritted his teeth, and after beating his wings once more, put them back in the dimension they belonged in.

Unluckily, the reaction might have been a little too late.

Castiel stared back at the figure standing four feet away, eyes as wide as the ones he looked into.

Viktor Krumm raised one finger slowly, hand shaking, and pointed at Castiel in utter disbelief. "An - angel?"

Among desolate remains of the wizard's campsite, Harry Potter's eyes opened.

Everything was silent and dark - there was no noise, no light, no movement. Ashes drifted through the cold air, among the burnt-out skeletons of tents, stalls and caravans. His breath misted in the air above, and all he could hear was his own heart thumping in his chest. How long had he been unconscious for? Ten minutes? An hour? Harry struggled to sit up - and then stopped, his breath catching in his throat.

About twenty metres away, he could see the silhouette of a man; dressed in a long black coat, wand at his side. He was facing Harry head on, and seemed to catch sight of him. Instinctive alarm bells went off in Harry's head, and he scrambled in panic to get up - that is before he went something grab him by the arm and haul him to his feet.

"Come on, kid." Dean Winchester said, pushing Harry to run and joining him in the sprint away from the assailant. Not pausing to question what the Winchester guy was doing there, Harry began to race through the wasteland, closely followed by Winchester. They quickly reached the shell of a stall, and Winchester grabbed Harry and shoved him behind it before turning round to look out across the fly stretch of land where the man was running towards them. A second later, the sound of a gun being fired made Harry jump out of his skin - Mr. Winchester was aiming a revolver at the man, shooting four times at the figure in the darkness. Harry watched as the shadow turned abruptly and ran, and Winchester fired two more times. The shadow was gone, though, and Mr Winchester cursed, and turned away and slopped the gun back into his coat. Silence had fallen once more - but only for a split second.

"Harry!" The yell echoed round the camp distantly, and Harry stopped. Ron.

"Harry, where are you?"

"Harry!"

And Hermione too! Harry turned abruptly to see his friend rushing towards him, reaching him moments later. "Been looking for you for ages!" Ron panted, his voice filled with relief. "Thought we lost you mate!"

"We heard gunshots, are you okay?" Hermione questioned anxiously, then realised Dean was there. "Oh, Mr Winchester!" She exclaimed. "What're you doing here?"

But Dean wasn't looking at her, he was looking at the sky, and Harry followed his gaze before crying out with horror. "What is is that?!"

High in the starry sky, the monstrous image of a skull glowed luminescent green, a snake winding out of its grinning mouth and hissing in the wind. A low murmur of haunting whispers filled the air, coming from the enchantment, and the effect was horrifying. Harry stared at it in terror, and a burning pain in his forehead hit him. As he reached his hand to hold his scar in agony, voices suddenly echoed through the wasteland, yelling. "STUPIFY!" Jets of red light surrounded them, and Dean pulled them all down just in time to avoid the spells fired at them from all sides.

"STOP!" Came a furious shout from the sidelines. "THAT'S MY SON!" As the figures around them stopped firing, Mr Weasley came dashing towards them. "Ron, Harry, Hermione, are you alright?" He held his son by one shoulder and then turned to Dean. "And Mr Winchester, are you okay?"

Dean rose slowly and looked round at the witches and wizards who had fired the spells with contempt. "Oh yeah," he said sarcastically. "I'm peachy."

He has no time complain, however, as, a second later; another wizard came rushing onto the scene - this one sporting a handlebar moustache and an expression that could be likened to insanity. "Which of you conjured it?!" He cried hoarsely, pointing his wand frantically from Harry to Ron to Hermione.

Mr Weasley was staring at him. "Crouch, you can't possibly-"

"Which of you lie?!" The man, Barty Crouch, spoke over him, still staring accusingly at the quartet. "You've been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Crime?" Questioned Harry and Dean in unison, also wearing identical expressions of extreme confusion.

"Barty, they're just kids!" Exclaimed Mr Weasley.

"Not that one!" Barty Crouch swivelled round to point his wand at Dean, who looked indignant.

"Heyyy, I'm young at heart!"

"What crime?" Persisted Harry, looking from Mr Weasley to Mr Crouch for an answer. Instead, he got it from Hermione, who whispered frantically:

"It's the dark mark, Harry, it's his mark!"

"Dark mark?" Questioned Dean. "God, why couldn't you just call it the "Green Snakey Skull Thing"? Man these names are driving me crazy."

"Voldemort?" Harry questioned in disbelief, paying no attention to Dean and looking up at the horrifying image in the sky, then back to Mr Crouch. "Those people tonight. In the masks." He said in realisation. "They're his too, aren't they - his followers."

Mr Weasley nodded, voice trembling. "Death Eaters."

There was a tense pause all round, as Barty Crouch's eyes filled with fearful regret. Dean, however, was no longer focusing on the conversation, he was looking round for Sam and Castiel.

"Hey!" He turned back to the group. "Anyone seen my brother? Or Cas?"

"You!" Barty Crouch suddenly swivelled round on him, wand up against Dean's throat. "Perhaps they did not cast it, but you did! Are you one of them! Are you a death eater!"

"Woah woah woah!" Dean protested. "Okay first off would you take your pointy stick away my throat, it's kinda hard to breathe with that thing shoved against my windpipe. And secondly - how can I be a Death Eater thing? I'm American, we'd never come up with something as sophisticatedly sadistic as that! Nah, we leave it to you Brits!"

"Do you think you're funny, Mr Winchester?!" Barty Crouch yelled hoarsely.

Dean smiled charmingly at the twitching wizard. "I think I'm adorable."

"He didn't do it, Mr Crouch!" Cried Harry in panic, eager to set things right. "He saved me from the man who did - at least I think I saw the man who did it."

Barty Crouch looked to Harry briefly and then turned back to stare at Dean with his fish-like eyes. "And did you see this man, sir?"

Dean set his jaw, meeting Crouch's stare. Harry, on the other hand, continued his defence of Dean, and burst out:

"He even shot him!"

There was a quick snap of movement as all heads turned to look at Dean Winchester in amazement.

"Shot him?" Questioned Mr Weasley in disbelief. "With a - a gum? A muggle gum?"

Dean rolled his eyes, took a step away from Mr Crouch's wand, and reached into his coat to bring out the pistol Harry had seen him using before. "It's gun." He informed Mr Weasley. "Or, more precisely, a Colt M1911A1. Quite a nifty little firearm for picking out Death Eaters. Unfortunately, I didn't get this one."

"Yes but… why didn't you use your wand?" Questioned Mr Weasley, looking at Dean, brow creased with confusion. Dean shrugged in reply before jumping out of his skin at Barty Crouch's next comment.

"Ha!" The wizard yelled. "The wand! Give it to me, now! Then we shall she if you're telling the truth."

Dean raised his eyebrows at Mr Crouch but obliged, pulling the stick from his pocket. "Okay then."

Crouch grabbed the wand from Dean's outstretched hand and held his own to it, eyes alight with expectancy. "Prior Incantato!"

There was a flash of gold light, and then something shot out of Dean's wand and hit Fred Weasley, who had been standing amongst the crowd behind his father. Instantly, he began to writhe. "Oh, great. I know this one is." He looked at Dean as bats began to pour out his nose. "Lethal, this one. Ginny's worse though.

Dean grinned and gave Fred the thumbs up - thank god for Sammy deciding that that was the most important spell for him to learn. Dean looked back to Crouch defiantly and smiled sweetly. "See? I'm harmless."

Crouch stared at him, lingering for a second, then moved away. "Come on!" He called shakily to the crowd around him. "Follow me!"

The crowd of ministry officials around them began to move, and Mr Weasley, Ron and Hermione clustered around Hardy. Dean, meanwhile, slipped his pistol into his coat only to look up and see Sam making his way over, face riddled with confusion.

"Hey, Sammy." He grinned as Sam reached him. "You won't believe what I just went through to prove I'm not a Death Eater. Man these Brits are paranoid."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Actually, I just saw it all happen. Nice work."

Dean snorted. "Well thanks for defending me." He looked round curiously. "Where's Cas?"

"With Ginny. He found his way back to us about ten minutes ago, seems okay." Sam answered. He looked at Dean. "What about you, you okay? Shame you didn't see that guy Harry was talking about."

Dean smiled and looked at his brother, face filled with smugness. "Oh, but I did see him, Sam." He answered, then looked up at the dark mark still spread across the night sky. "I saw the son of a bitch who did this."

* * *

 **A/N: I am so, so, so sorry for not updating this in so long or telling you guys what was happening! I haven't been able to find time to write properly over this past month, as we've had different guests staying each week, which took up all my time on top of studying and other things; and I just couldn't do this chapter justice until now. I really do apologise for not letting you know and just abandoning it for that time, but I'll be updating regularly each Saturday from now on; . And as an extra big "Sorry!", there'll be another chapter coming out tomorrow. It'll be much shorter and more of a special feature but hopefully you'll enjoy it!**

 **With this chapter, I'm aware it might be a bit confusing with the scene-switching, so if you have any tips on how to make the change more obvious, please let me know! What do you think of Dean's reaction to the Veela, and Sam's conversation with Hermione? If any of you could leave a review of just a sentence or two, it would mean the world to me. Thank you so much!**

 **Also - MAJOR SPOILER ALERT; IF YOU'RE NOT CAUGHT UP ON SEASON 13, DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING - what does everyone think about Gabriel being back? I am so happy omg my sister and I couldn't stop screaming when we saw it was him!**


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